


Love and Marriage

by bookwormchocaholic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Comedy of Errors, F/M, comedy of manners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-10-05 15:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10311644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormchocaholic/pseuds/bookwormchocaholic
Summary: Eager to provide for her parents and herself, Belle French accepts Neal Cassidy's marriage proposal. She is upset when his father, the haughty Mr. Gold, opposes the match. The situation takes an awkward turn when she becomes attracted to her future father-in-law. Edwardian Era, Historical AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-ed; expect mistakes.
> 
> Special thanks to onceuponanovel for the lovely artwork! I love you, sissy!

 

April 1915  
Storybrooke

Belle planted herself on the window seat, resting her shoulder against the frame and sniffed the fragrant breeze that wafted through her open window. Outside her bedroom window were clusters of lilac trees, which had recently opened up and bloomed. Blossoming lilacs were always a sure sign of spring.

Cracking open “North and South,” she traced over the words and picked up where she left off: Mr. Thornton’s proposal to Margaret Hale and her prompt rejection. She had only read the book a hundred times or so but it never got old. Not on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

The soft tap of kid boots on the kitchen hardwood floor informed Belle that her mother was near. Belle’s bedroom was just off the kitchen and it was situated so that she could hear all of the commotion that went on in there. There were many conversations that she eavesdropped on when she was a curious, young girl.

A knock sounded and her mother entered. Mother’s cheeks were flushed, piquing Belle’s interest. Her mother never rushed about. Her pace was always slow and her steps dainty.

“What is it, Mother?” Belle laid her book aside.

Mother clasped her hands together and despite her usual poise, she looked giddy as a young girl. “Belle, he is here. Mr. Cassidy has come! I think this is it, darling!” Her mother gushed.

Belle shot to her feet, smoothed out the wrinkles in her dark blue cotton skirt, and pinched her cheeks to bring the color back into them. A comforting squeeze of her mother’s hand and a kiss on the cheek provided her with the fortitude to face her suitor. She sailed through the house, past her dozing father in the living room, and out the front door.

Belle found her suitor waiting for her on the porch swing and sat down in the empty spot next to him. “Hello,” She greeted the young man with a shy wave. “My mother is fixing some tea for us. It should be ready soon.”

So was her mother’s custom when a guest arrived. Tea was a miraculous brew that soothed nerves, healed sore throats, and was the perfect beverage for introductions.

Her suitor bashfully bobbed his head.

Mr. Neal Cassidy was a nice young man to say in the least. He was tall, had dark wavy hair, soulful brown eyes and he was handsome in a rugged way. A little awkward at times, likely the effect of being five years her junior, he was what every young woman hoped for in a beau. He had money and position at a family owned business, and had the luxury of taking sea-side holidays, which was the very reason that he was in Storybrooke to begin with.

Neal had sought her out from the start and though Belle didn’t know why when he could have his pick of New York debutants, she embraced his suit wholeheartedly. Giving encouragement where encouragement was needed, she set her cap at him and had been waiting for a proposal for the last three days. Dropping her hanky for him to retrieve, taking his arm when they encountered steps, feigning ignorance on certain topics to stoke his masculine pride. Sweet and gentlemanly as Neal was, he was hardly what she had originally envisioned for herself. To be sure, he was no Mr. John Thornton, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Brandon – or any other brooding storybook hero for that matter. He was still boyish and were he not her suitor, he’d better fulfill the role of younger brother.

No, she did not love Neal, but there was no reason that love couldn’t grow between them.

But alas, she was twenty-five and a spinster in the making. She was lucky that the bloom had not yet gone off the rose. Beggars could not be choosers. Besides, she had her aging parents to think of. As a wife of a New York businessman, she could provide for them. A high society life in New York was not something she yearned for necessarily, but she could adapt to it. That much she was certain.

 _Please, let it be._ Belle willed it for him to continue and thanks be to Providence, he did!

“Miss French...Belle.” Neal’s customarily husky voice sounded squeaky, therefore he cleared his throat and began again. His fingers inched towards hers and scooped up her hand. Slick from sweat, her hand slid around inside of his. “Belle…I know we have only known one another for four weeks but I highly respect and admire you. I-I come here today to ask for your hand in marriage. Belle, would you consent to be my wife?”

“Yes, Neal, I’d be honored.” Belle lowered her lids and demurely nodded.

Neal changed color and then he blinked several times. “Th-thank y-you. I will do my utmost to make you happy. You will want for nothing.”

Belle smiled and sighed. Her prayers had been answered. She had only received one marriage proposal in her life, one that she rejected, and that was years ago. She had no reason to expect another offer, especially when there were so few prospects in Storybrooke. Bachelors tended to prefer young women, fresh out of the schoolroom, innocent and ready to breed. Then when Neal arrived in Storybrooke for his holiday and invited her for drives in his car and for walks, idle chats on the porch swing, hope resurrected within her.

Neal lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss there. “I must go to New York to speak to my father.” He said abruptly.

Belle’s brow furrowed. “So soon?” Her fiancé had never once mentioned his father, although it only made sense that he had one. Someone had to have sired him. It did give her pause to worry, that there was a father lurking in the shadows who did not know of her. And he might not like that his son had chosen a small-town girl. “Do you think Mr. Cassidy will give us his blessing?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” Neal gulped, his Adam’s apple quivering. “Everything will be well, I promise.” He placed one last kiss on the back of her hand. “I must go, that way I can make the evening train.”

Belle bid him farewell, moved towards the iron railing on the side of the porch. Bracing her palms on top of the rail, she watched with mixed feelings as Neal drove off. Why couldn’t he telephone the elder Mr. Cassidy? There was such an invention as the telephone. Her parents didn’t have one, only a few in Storybrooke did. But the general store had a communal telephone which all were welcomed to use. A quick conversation would be easier, but then again, perhaps Neal would be more convincing in person. He would use his earnestness to sway the elder Mr. Cassidy in her favor.

Belle swallowed, only then realizing how dry her mouth was and she returned inside.

Her mother had the tea service set out on the coffee table and was perched on the edge of the sofa, pouring a fourth cup. She would be disappointed that Neal hadn’t stayed, but would no doubt have the opportunity to entertain him many times in the future. Whilst on the wrong side of forty-five, her mother was still a prettyish sort of creature. Tall, lithe, her medium brown hair lightened by gray strands. No matter the trial or the tribulation, Mother always possessed a particular serenity that Belle envied. One that one would acquire with age. Even so, her mother would no longer have to struggle or worry, not now.

Belle stood before her parents, beaming, “Mr. Cassidy proposed and I accepted. We are engaged.” She announced.

Mother got up and hugged her. “Darling, I am so happy for you.”

Father remained in his chair, but nodded to her proudly. His aged eyes glinted with unshed tears. “Yes, he came by here the other day to ask my permission. Nice fellow.” He complemented off-handedly.

Father would have gotten up, if he could have. He was an invalid; his health had been compromised by a heart attack. A carpenter by trade, he collapsed in his workshop one day and though it was a close shave, he clung to life. Now having to contend with a weak constitution, he spent most of his days in his chair in the living room, his rocking chair on the front porch, or in bed. Unable to provide for his family, he had to swallow his pride and allow Belle to work as a maid for Granny Lucas, the woman who ran the boarding house. Mother took in other people’s laundry and did fine needle work. Determined to make some sort of contribution, Father whittled little animal figurines that were sold in the general store and the boarding house. His fingers had thickened, his knuckles becoming knobby with rheumatism, but he wouldn’t stop.  
Now, Father will be able to rest. Belle felt her heart squeeze in her chest that she could scarcely draw breath. Now that she was marrying Neal Cassidy, they would no longer have to live from month to month, wondering if they could put food on the table or had enough wood for the stove.

Mother handed her one of the cups and Belle settled on the sofa beside her mother. She sipped the hot liquid and closed her eyes, satisfied with her accomplishments for the day.

“Did Mr. Cassidy not want to come in? Your mother has cake.” Father pointed to a small cake that seemed to have Moe French’s name on it. Happy as he was about the engagement, he could not take his eyes off of the little white dessert.

Cake was not healthy for those suffering with heart ailments, but Father’s appetite had dwindled since his collapse. The one thing he craved was cake. Nothing else would satisfy. _“Well, he would be no better off prohibiting cake,” Dr. Whale reasoned. “May as well let him eat cake, if it makes him happy.”_ And so, her father was permitted cake. The only cake he turned his nose up to was an orange citric cake. The first bite wasn’t too bad, yet every bite after that grew progressively worse. They had tried to feed it to a stray dog and the dog refused it, recoiling from it. Then he hiked his leg on it.

And now her father would get to have all the cakes in the world. New York would not be wanting in selection, that was for sure. They would have far fancier delights than what Storybrooke could offer.

“He had to go to New York.” Belle explained, placing her cup on the coffee table.

“That was rather quick.” Father observed and a grin broke across his round face when Mother cut him a slice of cake, put it on a plate, and handed it to him. “But young fellows are always on the move these days.” He licked his lips and dug the fork into the moist dessert. “That car of his is a wonder. The Silver Ghost.”

Neal’s Rolls Royce, better known as the Silver Ghost, was a force not to be reckoned with. Belle had never set foot in a car before that one and was a little skittish of it at first. But as soon as they were blasting around Storybrooke in the magnificent automobile, she fell in love with it.

“Neal needs to speak to his father.” Belle exhaled and decided that she could no longer contain her enthusiasm. She wanted them to know that they no longer had to worry or labor; better days lay ahead for all of them. Resting her hand on her mother’s slim wrist, she continued, “Mother, Father, I am going to take such good care of you.”

“Darling girl, you already do.” Mother patted her cheek and took a drink from her cup. “All that matters to us is your happiness.”

 _I will be happy, knowing that you are well._ Belle smiled knowingly.

Her parents would never want her to marry without love; they themselves had loved each other dearly when they wed. Her mother and father had shown her more love and care than two parents should, and now was her chance to take care of them.

Neal Cassidy was a good young man; she knew no harm of him and would no doubt come to love him in time. But for now, Belle was relieved knowing that her parents’ well-being would be seen to.

#

New York

Gold eased back in his favorite chair and nursed his scotch, watching the flames in the fireplace dance. Usually a warm blaze in his library made him drowsy, but since Neal left his house four weeks ago to go on a seaside holiday, sleep had become a dim memory. He had not expected to be so agitated about his son’s absence, not this soon after meeting the lad. Their relationship was a peculiar one; he had not even known of Neal’s existence until a year prior. Neal had shown up on his doorstep, claiming to be his son, and after a little investigating of his own, Gold knew it in his heart to be true.

A confirmed bachelor, he had not expected to embrace fatherhood so eagerly. But a son – a child – fulfilled him in ways that business and society never could. All of his former pursuits seem shallow in light of having a child. He had never believed in true love until he met Neal. He had found his life’s purpose. The boy fit into his life so easily that having him away from home felt unnatural and he could stop worrying that something horrible would happen to his son.

Gold’s head snapped up at the familiar sound of his son’s return. He would recognize his son’s greeting to the butler anywhere. Casting a quick glance at the clock on the mantle, he took note of how late it was. Incredibly late to be traveling, and unexpected. But he’d rather have Neal show up early unannounced than have to wait until morning and spend another night apart.

He plunked his drink down and scrambling to his feet, he strode out of the library, down a large flight of stairs and to the foyer where Neal was handing his coat and luggage off to the butler.

Before Neal could get a word in edgewise, Gold hugged him tightly, fearing that his boy might vanish again.

“Neal, you’re back!” He parted and clapped his son on the shoulder. “How was the sea side?”

Gold didn’t really understand why his boy needed to make a sudden trip to Maine. He had his suspicions that it had to do with a certain Miss Nolan turning his boy’s marriage proposal down. Neal had been brokenhearted and desperate for a change of scenery. Well acquainted with having his own heart crushed many, many times, he naturally agreed when Neal asked to go on the trip. Anything to make his son happy.

Neal looked sheepish and hunched his shoulders. The lad looked tired; his eyes had purplish shadows beneath them and he was pale, as though he too had done without several nights of sleep.

Gold squinted. He was only learning how to interpret his child’s looks, but he sensed that Neal had done something that he wasn’t altogether proud of. “What is it? Good Lord, don’t tell me that you need more money. If you do, its fine. But you spend it like water.” He gave a careless shrug of his shoulders. Having missed out on the first nineteen years of Neal’s life, Gold felt he had to supply his boy with whatever money he required. Even so, Neal had to be watchful. “I’m not angry, really. But the gaming tables know how to hook you. You probably don’t know this, but your grandfather was a gambler and trouble with cards runs in our blood. So, we have to be careful-”

“Papa, I’m engaged!” Neal interrupted and then he covered his mouth.

The butler fussed with the luggage, a paltry attempt at listen in on their conversation.

Gold motioned for his son to follow him up the library, where they would be able to talk in private.

Neal trailed behind him and it felt like an eternity before the younger man crossed the threshold and closed the door.

“What? How?” Gold shook his head, completely bewildered by the turn of events. “I thought you and the Nolan girl had a falling out.”

“It’s not...Its someone else.” Neal rasped, once again slouching. He shuffled his feet on the Persian rug, resembling more of a schoolboy receiving a set down from a school master, than someone on the cusp of manhood. “Miss Belle French of Storybrooke, Maine consented to be my wife.” He sucked in a breath and then exhaled loudly. “Please say something.”

Gold blinked his shock and didn’t know how to immediately respond. “I - uh... I have never heard of the French’s of Maine.” Racking his muddled mind, he couldn’t recall hearing of such a family. Not that he had given Maine much thought in general. “Are they new money?”

“They have no money, Papa.” Neal massaged his creased brow and he took an involuntary step back. “Belle is not an heiress and she has no dowry to speak of. But she is a good, kind, beautiful girl - very intelligent. She loves to read. I like her very much.”

Gold suddenly had a vision of Neal, as a boy, alone and neglected, desperate for someone to love him. Vulnerable enough to be taken advantage of. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, then opened them once more. The real Neal was once more before him. The twenty-year-old, really wasn’t much different from his vision. He was too good and thought too well of everyone to be aware that people would take advantage of him.

And this Miss Nobody of Nowheresville, Maine, had sunk her sharp, little claws into his boy. His only child.

No.

Belle French would not be taking advantage of Neal. He wouldn’t allow it. Having long been acquainted with the ways of the world, Gold was not about to see his child destroyed at the hands of a conniving girl, frantic to marry up in the world.

“You like her?” Gold retrieved his glass of scotch from where he left it on the end table and drank the remainder of it in one large gulp. It burned like hellfire all the way down his esophagus, but it awakened his senses. He put it down and turned back to his son. “Good Lord, son, she is after your inheritance.”

“What?” Neal’s mouth swung open.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gold muttered a prayer of strength. “This Belle French may be a very good sort of girl, but she knows you have money. She is not of our class.”

“Papa!” Neal scolded.

Gold cringed, hating to deny his son anything. It had been his policy to let his son have whatever he desired. But one day, Neal would thank him for his protection. “Neal, really, everyone has their level. I mean, do they even have social circles in Maine?”

Neal crossed his arms; which still possessed more baby fat than muscles. “That’s rich coming from the man who descended from gamblers and grew up on the streets of Glasgow. You moved from place to place and never knew when your next meal would be. You made your fortune.” His boy swiftly countered and undaunted, he added, pointing out, “Papa, I am the product of love. You loved where you pleased, why can’t I?”

Gold pressed his lips together and made his way back to his chair near the fire. Slumping down into the cushion that conformed perfectly to his derrière, he briefly regretted telling Neal about his roots. Leave it to his quick boy to throw that back in his face, and then to reference Milah. Of course, he had loved Milah – though looking back on it, it had been a boy’s love, which ended badly. Gold couldn’t be sorry for it though, since the union had given him Neal.

Neal pushed another arm chair closer and took a seat. His youthful eyes watched Gold’s every movement.

Gold’s fingers twitched; he really needed another drink. But he didn’t wish to be a bad example for Neal. “Do you really love this girl? If you did, I could at least understand why you would over look her deficiencies.” Studying his boy’s expression, though Neal was being honest, there seemed something lacking in his son’s demeanor. He was not acting like a young man in love. Not only that, it didn’t explain how he could fall so easily out of love with Miss Nolan and then in love with this new girl. “Are you certain you are not retaliating against Miss Nolan? This is awfully sudden-”

“I care for Belle and she will be my wife, with or without your blessing!” Neal made a fist and slammed it dramatically into the arm of the chair. In a more moderate tone, he admitted, “Though I would like to have it.”

 _This is a mistake!_ Gold rolled his shoulders and wasn’t satisfied until he heard a pop. He had been carrying the tension in his neck and shoulders ever since Neal went on his holiday. And now it was only likely to get worse. He ought to refuse, he really should.

But one glimpse into those large, brown eyes, Gold faltered.

“All right.” Gold gave a reluctant nod of approval. “If this is what you want, then you have my support.”

He waited for his son to show some emotion – happiness or excitement. Anything.

Neal merely mumbled his thanks and stared blankly into the fire.

Gold fought to urge to make further conversation and let an awkward silence fall between them, which offered him time to think.

He’d play along with this charade, for now. But he intended to visit this Miss Belle French of Storybrooke and put an end to her machinations and send her on her way.

Then he would do what he could to fix his poor boy’s broken heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Gold meet; Gold acts like an ass.

Belle shoved back the curtains on the front window facing the street. Her mother preferred to keep them closed, to prevent the sun from further fading the furniture and the rug. But since their house didn’t have electric lights, the sun was their only way to brighten up the room.

Neal and his father were coming. They had received a telegram late informing them that he and his father would be arriving around two o’clock in the afternoon. Thankfully, they were well rehearsed in straightening up their house for unannounced guests. She and her mother could put a room to rights in under five minutes, hiding whatever stray clutter in the master bedroom off of the living room. They had it down to a fine art.

Belle turned around and with hands on hips, she surveyed the living room. Their house wasn’t fancy but it was tidy and the shabby furniture had crocheted afghans covering them, to conceal the worn patches. They couldn’t put on airs, because they had none, but they could at least show that they were respectable people.  
Father was in his chair while Mother was flittering about the room, fussing over every last detail. They were all wearing the Sunday bests and Belle herself took special care fashioning her hair after they received Neal’s message, setting the curls just so. _I am more apprehensive to meet my future father-in-law than I am to see my fiancé again._ The thought occurred to Belle, but she shook it off.

The screech of brakes and the coughing of the exhaust from the tailpipe alerted the three that their guests had arrived!

Belle briefly peered out the window, and on spotting the two figures in the Silver Ghost, she faced her parents once more. “They’re here, they’re here!” she announced loudly, despite the fact that they were only feet away.

Mother hastened off to the kitchen and returned with the white and blue trimmed tea service. Placing it on the coffee table, she said, “Everyone behave naturally.”

“For crying out loud, this is my house!” Father harrumphed and slapped his thigh for effect. “I’ll behave as I please!”

Were anyone else visiting, Belle would have laughed. The French family were anything but natural. Maurice French did not like to have people tell him what to do, let alone have someone come into his house – his castle - and dictate his behavior. However, she had to make a good impression on older Mr. Cassidy, otherwise it would be all for naught. She had read enough books to know that wealthy fathers often disinherited sons who married outside their social circle. Much as she liked Neal, and shallow as it was, she needed a fiancé who had enough money to take care of her parents in their dotage.

“Father, please.” Belle wrung her hands and sent her father a beseeching look. “For me.”

“I’ll be good...” Father rolled his eyes and shrugged. He could be a curmudgeon towards others, but he always had a soft spot for her and her Mother. “Well, I’ll try at least.”

There was a light rap on the front door, followed by a muffled conversation between the two Cassidy’s.

Father gave a world-weary sigh. “Let them in.” He signaled for her to proceed.

Belle plastered a friendly smile on her face and answered the door. Neal entered first, greeting her bashfully. His color was heightened and he didn’t meet her gaze, therefore she figured that he must feel as awkward about their engagement as she did.

“Neal.” Belle nodded to her fiancé and though it would have been perfectly acceptable to kiss his cheek, or show some sign of affection towards him, she didn’t. For whatever reason, she didn’t think of Neal in a romantic sense. Hopefully that would change once they were married. Otherwise spending a lifetime together would be difficult.

Belle turned to the older gentleman lingering on the threshold. Offering her hand to him, she shivered when his fingers coiled around hers. Lifting her gaze, she came face to face with her future father-in-law. A man of slight and slender build, his brown-gray hair unfashionably long waved to his shoulders, his angular features pinched into a severe scowl. Lines webbed from his eyes and around his thin lips – lines full of character and wisdom.

Not handsome in the conventional sense, she wouldn’t call him wholly unfortunate looking.

“Mr. Cassidy,” Belle bowed her head slightly, declaring as warmly as possible, “I am so happy to finally meet you. Neal has told me ever so much about you.”

“Evidentially not enough.” The man sneered, shaking his head. A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth. “My surname is Gold, dearie, but since we are to soon be related, you may call me Mr. Gold.”

Belle stiffened, squaring her shoulders and drew her hand out of Mr. Gold’s grasp. Mortified by her mistake, she forced herself to meet his mocking gaze. This is not going to be easy. Although, in her defense, she didn’t know how a father and a son could have different surnames, unless of course Neal was adopted.

Stealing a glance at Neal, she noted that he had the good graces to look sheepish. “That is my fault. I’ll explain later.” The younger man promised and took a seat on the sofa.

Belle was about to move to sit next to her fiancé when Mr. Gold addressed her once more, and this time she detected that the way he enunciated his words, he had a brogue. Whether he was Scottish or Irish, she could not be certain, since she had only ever read about brogues in books.

“So, I see you’re the woman who stole my son’s heart.” Mr. Gold drawled, his words taking on a sharper tone. His teeth gritted, she noticed a gold one in the midst of all the white ones. “Congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.” Belle replied.

“I suppose they are your parents.” He motioned towards Mother and Father, who had gone uncharacteristically silent since his arrival.

Belle nodded, scolding herself for being so remiss. She lifted her hand towards her parents. “Yes, this is my father, Maurice, and this is my mother, Colette.”

Mother offered Mr. Gold a limp handshake and hovered near the tea service, prepared to serve their guest.

As Father and Mr. Gold shook hands, her father jerked the smaller man forward and growled, “Your son is a lucky man, Mr. Gold. He was the one to win my girl’s heart. Therefore he had better cherish it. Am I understood?”

Mr. Gold’s brow raised and a bemused expression crossed his face. He recoiled from her father, having been duly warned. Sick as he was, Father was not about to let Neal’s father get by with his rudeness.

Belle closed her eyes and murmured a prayer. This can’t possibly get any worse. However, when Gold planted himself beside his son and his studied the room, right down to the fraying throw rug on the floor, she could almost read his judgmental thoughts.

“I hope your journey wasn’t too taxing. I may not stir often on a train, but I am never more tired when a journey ends.” Mother gave a lighthearted chuckle and then picking up the teapot, she began pour them each a cup. “Would you like a cup of tea? Oh, and we have cake. Belle and I made it from scratch this morning.”

Father huffed and crossed his arms over his belly. Belle assumed that he was put out that he had to share his sweets with Neal and a man he barely knew. A man he was determined not to like.

Mother handed them each a cup, then she and Belle sat across from them on the chairs they had carried in from the kitchen.

Belle nursed the brew, in hopes of soothing her nerves. But it was not helping. Instead, the warmth of it flooded through her veins and she felt herself growing overheated. She’d give anything to be able to throw open a window, but knew that the haughty Mr. Gold would likely frown on that.

Her future father-in-law had not been quiet two minutes before he slyly observed, “You have no servants, I see.”

Belle counted to ten, waiting for her fiancé to step in and defend her. She was disappointed when he pressed himself into the corner of the sofa, slurping down his cup of tea.

 _I will not have Mr. Gold insult my family or our home!_ She decided fiercely. He might have money and power, he might very well hate her, but that gave him no right to judge her parents. Her parents who had worked their whole lives and who had not been born with silver spoons in their mouths. It may jeopardize her engagement with Neal, but she loved her parents too much to have them insulted.

“No, Mr. Gold, we do not.” Belle slammed her cup down on the coffee table, hard enough to break it, but thankfully the little cup was hearty and didn’t crack under her abuse. “We are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves. We do not need to be coddled.” Scrunching her nose in his direction, she continued until she made her point. “I also have a job, but I won’t offend your more refined sensibilities by crassly going on about it.”

Mr. Gold set his cup down as well and leaned back into the sofa. Cocking his head to the side, that infuriating smirk of his reappeared. Rather than looking offended, he seemed more amused that her temper got the better of her.

Unwilling to allow him to get the upper hand, she raised her eyes to his and would not look away until he did. Finally, at long last, Mr. Gold dropped his gaze, seceding from this little battle.

Belle had read Edith Wharton’s books and knew that Neal and Mr. Gold lived a life similar to the characters in those stories. They were the kind of people who had a house on Fifth Avenue; they had country houses that they named; they changed their wardrobes every season; and often went on trips to Europe. What they wasted on card games in a night, could be enough for her family to live on for months. The Gold’s could buy and sell them thousands of times over.

She folded her hands in her lap and wished that she could think of something – anything – to say. But she had not the talent for making small talk. Especially with people she did not like.

“Storybrooke is gorgeous, is it not?” Neal cleared his throat and quirking a finger under his collar, he tugged on it. “The sea is very, uh, green, and it is very tranquil.”

Belle frowned and had expected more from her fiancé. Not only did he not defend her or her family, he did not curb his father’s snide remarks. Is _this how it will be during our marriage?_ She pondered. Neal would be meek and let her fight all of their battles, acting more like a child than a husband. She could not imagine enduring years of marriage with such a father-in-law. But she had little choice, not with her parents reliant upon her. I will do anything for them.

Father scooted forward in his chair, leaned over and cut himself a slice of chocolate cake. The blade of the knife clattered on the plate. “Please, help yourselves.” He scooped the wedge onto the plate and reclined once more. “We don’t stand upon ceremony here.” Taking a bite, he grumbled, “Irish bastard.”

Mr. Gold shot her father a pointed look. “I’m a Scottish bastard, Mr. French.”

“Oh really, there’s a difference?” Father shrugged and waved the Scotsman off, preferring his cake to his company.

Belle closed her eyes once more and shook her head. This is going to be a long visit.

#

The second the door closed behind Neal and his father, Belle bolted from the living room and took refuge in her bedroom. She was really too old for school girl histrionics, yet when she threw herself across the bed and broke down in sobs, it felt right.

The visit had only gotten worse, especially when her father and Mr. Gold got on the subject of politics. She thought that argument would never end. The vein in her father’s neck looked like it was ready to pop when Neal thankfully piped up and suggested that they should go and get settled at the boarding house.

Belle swiped at her cheeks, sniffing loudly. In a fit of frustration, she plucked the hairpins out of her hair, threw them on the floor, and let her curls loose.

_He hates me!_

The man, who all her hopes depended upon, hated her. Off and on throughout the visit, she would catch him staring at her. His clever eyes narrowed. She didn’t know whether he was plotting on how to end the engagement or picking apart her appearance. Her cotton blue tea dress was three years old, but since she saved it for Sundays and special occasions, it was presentable. Men preferred women with fair hair and blue eyes, tall and thin. Then only thing she had in her favor was her eye color. Though if Neal had no objections to her looks, she didn’t know why Mr. Gold should.

Mr. Gold had to hate her because she was poor. That had to be it. No doubt he wanted a wealthy debutant with pedigree for his son, and she did not suit.

Belle hugged her knees to her chest and wondered how she could earn Mr. Gold’s respect. Or if she could.

The bedroom door creaked and Mother poked her head in. “Belle? Darling-”

Her mother tiptoed over to the bed, as if walking softly could ease her turmoil any.

“Mr. Gold hates me!” Belle sobbed, gripping the hem of her skirt, mussing it terribly. “You saw how he behaved. Neal won’t marry me now.”

 _And then what will become of you and father?_ A lump had formed in her throat. _Dear God, I let my parents down!_ She had done everything right to entice Neal into matrimony and now it was all going to fall apart. Marriages that defied social barriers always failed!

Mother cupped her cheek and smoothed away her tears. “Nonsense. Neal is in love with you, otherwise he wouldn’t have proposed.” She reminded her.

Belle nodded and knew that had to be true. Other than her love of literature and love of knowledge, she had very little to recommend her. No dowry, no connections, no property…She was evidently that haughty Scotsman’s worst nightmare. Neal had no reason whatsoever to propose to her.

Yet the fact remained: if Neal loved her, it didn’t explain why he wouldn’t stand up to his father for her.

“Mr. Gold is a prickly sort, to be sure, but there is a little good in everyone.” Mother sighed and handed her a hanky. Her mother was too good natured to say anything bad about Mr. Gold, though he deserved it. “Sometimes we need only a pick and a shovel to find it.”

“Hateful man.” Belle patted her face dry and blinked away the rest of her tears. What had begun as sadness soon gave way to anger. She could not give up so easily, not when she was so close to securing her parents’ futures. “He insulted you and father and our way of life. Well, I don’t want his blessing. We can marry without it.”

Mother winced. The older woman was more apt to seek a peaceful resolution about matters and Belle would never argue with that. But Mr. Gold got under her skin in such a way that she could not easily forgive.

“This was only the first meeting.” Mother claimed her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “And Mr. Gold is Scottish; he lives in New York City. They’re an odd set there; their manners are very different. You have to make allowances for the very rich; they don’t know how to behave amongst the rest of the world.”

Belle’s lips curved into a smile. Her parents’ view on the world was comical and always brightened her spirits.

“Everyone loves you, Belle, and in time you will win Mr. Gold over.” Mother promised, and leaning forward, she brushed her lips against Belle’s forehead.  
Belle nodded. Her mother was right, of course. Their first meeting was disastrous and no doubt his first impression of her was less than perfect. But she would find a way to make Mr. Gold like her.

#

Five seconds.

Gold counted each of them.

That was how long they were in his room at the boarding house before Neal whipped around and lost his temper.

“Papa, how could you?” Neal threw his hands up in the air.

“Neal-” Gold had begun and then clamped his mouth shut when he realized that his boy was nowhere near through with his temper tantrum.

“You- I am so angry with you, I can’t even look at you!” Neal shouted, stamping his foot.

His son actually stamped his foot. Like a child. His boy wanted to get married and yet he was behaving no better than a two-year-old. Not that I am any expert on marriage, but Neal is nowhere near ready to wed! Neal needed to take on more responsibilities and behave like a man before he could enter the marriage state.

Gold pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache was coming on, one that could only be remedied with a glass of Scotch. “Miss French doesn’t love you, Neal, no more than you love her. I can’t imagine why you would persist on marrying her. But she, on the other hand, is only interested in your money.”

It was as plain as the nose on his face, however, Neal didn’t see it. The French’s, though a good family in their own right, screamed poverty. Their house, their furniture, their clothes, their food – was a reflection of their means. He could easily pity them; their situation was unfortunate. Mr. French appeared to be ill and Mrs. French at her wits’ end. Were Belle French chasing after anyone else’s son, he wouldn’t blame her.

But this was his son and she was using him.

“Yes, it’s impossible that Belle could actually love me.” Neal countered, refusing to listen to reason. “She is a sweet girl and you ruined everything!”

 _Girl?_ Gold nearly snorted a laugh on that one. Belle French was not a girl. She was a woman. A beautiful, intelligent, temperamental woman. And she knew exactly what she was doing! Baiting his boy into marriage, implying that she loved Neal. Of all the asinine things… Belle French did not act like a woman in love. When she greeted Neal at the door, it was lukewarm; as one might greet a stranger. She barely spoke to Neal at all. No, she displayed no symptom of love.

“Neal, please!” Gold reached out to grasp Neal’s shoulder, but his son recoiled from him.

“No! You fix this, or…” Neal paused and for a moment Gold hoped that his resolve was wavering. His heart nearly broke though when his son threatened, “I’ll never forgive you! I’ll never speak to you again.”

A sharp breath seized in Gold’s chest and he grappled for the bedpost, otherwise he would have toppled over. Oh God, I can’t lose Neal! Not now! He had just found his son, he’d die if his son abandoned him. Before he had wandered aimlessly through life, but since Neal showed up on his doorstep, the boy had become the center of his world.

“I’m sorry.” Gold blinked back his unshed tears. He could not lose his composure in front of his child. “I’m sorry, really, I am. I’ll smooth things over, I promise.” He breathed a sigh of relief when the fury melted from Neal’s face. He continued, and hoped that his words didn’t sound too shaky. Otherwise he would be betraying his emotions. “If Miss French is half the woman you claim she is...I’m sure I’ll grow to love her too.”

Neal managed a smile, but the expression didn’t seem genuine. His son muttered his thanks and then mentioned that he wanted a snack from the kitchen. The boy left without another word.

Gold sank down on the bed, completely bewildered by the strange turn of events. He and Neal had their worst arguments to date, one that he had feared would destroy the delicate fabric of their relationship. However, Neal merely walked off after Gold apologized and promised to try to like Belle French. He had been hoping for a hug, to prove that Neal had forgiven him.

He would try to keep his word and give Belle French a chance.

Gulping, remorse began to set in. He had not been fair to her or her parents. He had marched into their home, insulted them and their ways, and acted as though he and Neal were superior, when he knew that was hardly true. His own childhood had been a dark one, full of poverty and filth and sadness. It had taken him twenty years to make his fortune. As for Neal, he had been conceived out of wedlock. Society only accepted him and Neal because of their money and connections.

At least the French home seemed to be a happy home.

Belle French was not a bad person. In the beginning, she seemed friendly and eager to like him. Of course, he had to be an ass. It was odd though, that Neal had not enlightened her about his history. Her pretty mouth had twisted into a frown when he continued to needle her, then it wasn’t long before her cheeks were scarlet and her nostrils were flared. She was beautiful when she was angry.

Belle French was beautiful, period. Ethereal. When he first clamped his eyes on her, he nearly swallowed his tongue and throughout the visit he could not stop his gaze from wandering to her. The chestnut-haired beauty, with luminous blue eyes fringed in inky lashes, and a porcelain complexion, reminded him of a living china doll. She looked out of place in her common frock; she belonged swathed in silks and satins. He would be willing to wager that she had never felt the pleasure of running silk over her soft skin.

An unbidden image of Belle French naked in his bed, waiting for him on silk sheets, stole through his mind. The vixen would tease him, of course, and make him work for it…As he should.

Gold awakened from his heated little fantasy and rubbed his chin. What had just happened? He had been daydreaming about his son’s fiancée. I shouldn’t be doing that. God only knew what brought that on.

Perhaps the fifteen years he had been spending in voluntary celibacy had something to do with it.

He rose and stumbled to his suitcase, heaved it onto the bed and cracked it open. Thankfully he had snuck in a bottle of Scotch, in case he needed to steady his nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://bookwormchocaholic.tumblr.com/post/158698062779/love-and-marriage-chapter-2


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Gold talk; Gold acts like an ass...again.

Belle straightened from her crouched position and withdrew a hanky from her apron pocket to dab her sticky brow. Dust and perspiration disgusted her, and though the windows were open and a cool breeze off the sea was circulating the air of the boarding house, she was already spent and it was not yet noon.

Her morning had been a fractious one. Father had not felt well enough to get out of bed. He often made the effort, but when he woke around six o’clock, he wasn’t hungry and wanted to rest awhile longer. She and Mother fretted, that another attack was coming. Belle left an hour later for work and was relieved to get a note a couple hours after that that between the help of a friend – whom she assumed to be a neighbor – Father got up and was in his chair whittling a new figurine. 

While she had dusted the downstairs, particularly the parlor, Belle scrunched her nose knowing that she had not done her best work. She could not focus this morning, not with her Father feeling ill and the uncertainty of her engagement. Neal had not sent her a word, so she assumed that nothing had changed since yesterday. Granny Lucas would forgive her though; the woman had always been kind to her, offering her a job as a maid after Father had his heart attack. 

“No doubt Mr. Gold would birth kittens if he knew I was a maid.” Belle grumbled, starting to sing the catchy tune Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-aye while bouncing the pillows around to plump them. 

It would serve the snob right, to have a maid for a future daughter-in-law. 

“Only female felines can birth kittens, Miss French.”

Belle froze. _How? And he heard me sing!_ Not only that, it was hardly a refined song. 

Slowly turning around, Belle came face to face with the smug Scotsman. Smoothing back a lock of hair that escaped from her clasp, she nodded to him. “Mr. Gold.”

Mr. Gold was lingering in the door way, a bouquet of red roses in his clenched hand. “Miss French.” In two strides, he was close and he thrust the flowers out at her. “These are for you.”

Belle took them, albeit reluctantly. She had never received flowers before, not even from Neal, and he was her fiancé. For flowers to come from her future father-in-law… seemed very intimate, although she knew he didn’t mean it that way.

“I owe you and your family an apology for my behavior yesterday.” Mr. Gold ducked his head, in reverence to her which was shocking. He had absolutely no respect for her yesterday, now he was treating her as a lady. She couldn’t make him out. “I acted like an incorrigible ass, of course if you knew me better, you would know that it is part of my disposition. Even so that was no excuse.” His tongue darted out and ran along the ridge of his teeth, which she found distracting and… oddly sensual. “Would you please forgive me?

“Only if you apologize to my parents too.” Belle tore her gaze away, lest her thoughts become wicked. “You deeply insulted them,” she insisted, unwilling to budge on that. She had been more outraged for their sake than her own.

Mr. Gold nodded. “I already have done so this morning. Your parents graciously forgave me...well, your mother did.” His eyes were several shades lighter than they had been yesterday. She had not noticed how tender and wide they were until now. The other day she had thought him attractive, but the longer she looked at him, the more she liked his looks. His handsome appearance wasn’t the kind that would fade over time, but rather would improve as he aged. “Your father not so much, but considering I came into his house and wounded his pride, it’s understandable.”

It only took her a second for her to realize that Mr. Gold must have assisted her mother this morning, in getting her father out of bed. Which could have been no easy task, because Father was twice the size of Mr. Gold and he had been at a disadvantage. But it was a mark in the Scotsman’s favor, that he had helped despite receiving no forgiveness from her Father. 

“I’ll speak to him.” Belle promised and bringing the bouquet to her nose she sniffed and drank in the fragrance. 

She was at a loss as to what to say when he fell silent. Mr. Gold had been the one to seek her out, therefore she assumed that he wanted something. The man was a mystery to her. All prickles and stings one day, courteous and thoughtful the next. Neal, on the other hand, was easy to read. He was everything a suitor ought to be… handsome, well-mannered, a good conversationalist, friendly. Mr. Gold was not suitor material, let alone husband material. 

_Not that I would ever think of him in such a way._ Belle quickly corrected herself, thankfully she had not muttered those thoughts aloud like she had earlier, about birthing kittens and Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-aye. 

Mr. Gold released a lengthy sigh. “Miss French, would you accompany me to Mrs. Potts’s Tea Shop for a cup of tea?” He flashed her a genuine smile, thankfully his tongue was safely tucked back inside his mouth. “I would like to get to know my future daughter-in-law.”

Belle considered making the excuse that she was not hungry. She didn’t have money to pay her way and the last thing she wanted to do was be in Mr. Gold’s debt. But then her traitorous stomach let out an obnoxious growl, which made her want to do nothing more than dig a hole and drop in.

“All right.” She agreed, holding up the flowers and giving them a tiny shake. “Let me find a vase for these and I will be ready.”

Belle hastened from the parlor and to the kitchen. Leaving the roses on the table, she frantically refashioned her hair, doffed her apron, splashed some water on her face and pinched her cheeks. She found a lemon wedge on the counter and squeezed a few drops on her wrists and dabbed behind her ears, then wiped the remaining moisture on her dress, hoping to mask the dusty-sweaty stale smell. Selecting one of the roses, she used a knife to chop it off short and then stuck the stunted stem into her upswept hair.

It had been years since she had gone to Mrs. Potts’s Tea Shop. She and her mother used to go once a week, to enjoy a relaxing cup and sample the finger sandwiches and the petite fours. Whilst it had been awhile, she knew how to conduct herself in polite company and would be sure that Mr. Gold would have no regrets about taking her out.

His first impression of her was dismal, but with any luck, Mr. Gold would grow to like her as her mother predicted. Then he would give her his blessing and all would be well.

#

Gold gritted his teeth as the owner of the establishment stationed herself by the table and proceeded to offer her congratulations on Belle’s engagement. Mrs. Potts seemed nice enough, but he had not expected word to travel so fast in Storybrooke. He supposed that it made sense; were they in New York, the entire upper class would have sniffed out the truth in an afternoon. A town consisting of eight hundred must have been wise of it in a half an hour at least. 

Naturally Belle had shared her good news with someone and that certain someone had shared her good fortune with everyone.

He was glad when the plump woman laid out the tea service, along with plates of sandwiches and her version of petite fours, then went on her way. Fidgeting uncomfortably in his chair, he could not get over how very pink the whole shop was. Pink tea service, pink cushions, pink ruffled table cloth… The onslaught of pink was beginning to burn into his retinas. 

Gold directed his gaze at a more pleasurable sight: Belle. She had laid a couple of sandwiches on her plate and then a few cakes. When she brought one of the cakes to her lips and nibbled, he nearly let out an unholy groan. 

Their second encounter had gone better than he had expected. He did enjoy the bit of her talking to herself and nearly busted a gut laughing when she sang off key. But it was adorable. It was the first time he had seen the real Belle French, without any pretense. To his amazement, she accepted his apology and his flowers.

Tilting his head, he detected a bit of red, and he smiled. She had stuck one of the roses in her hair. Almost a romantic gesture. 

He tore his gaze away, put a sandwich on his plate, and commented, “Neal tells me that you are well read.”

“I do love books,” Belle nodded eagerly. Leaning forward, she raised the tea pot and poured them each a cup of tea. She dropped two sugars in hers and added a little cream. “Although we are a little limited here in Storybrooke.”

Gold stifled a chuckle. Inquisitive creature that she was, he could well imagine her exploring every crevice of New York, unearthing all of its secrets. “Then you will love New York. The city is full of libraries and bookshops, museums and stores.” He hesitated, then decided to extend a private invitation to her, thinking she might enjoy it. “I have a personal library as well that you are more than welcome to peruse. In return, you must give me your thoughts on the books.”

He rather liked the idea of Belle making herself at home in his library. She could arrange the books how she liked, order new ones, read in there whenever she pleased. The image of her lounging on the settee, skimming through his books while he saw to his correspondence at his desk, flittered through his brain. The concept was intimate and made his house seem more like a home than what it was. 

“Thank you.” Belle’s eyes sparkled under the electric lights. Her two front teeth sank into her lower lip. “What do you like to read?”

His work often kept him too busy for much pleasurable reading, but he managed to take in a couple of chapters every evening before bed. “Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sir Walter Scott, Jules Verne, Charles Dickens.”

The conversation flowed easily and it occurred to Gold that he was not used to conversing on an equal intellectual level with a woman. He and Milah had been too young to have much in common, and though he and his former mistress had had their share of conversations, that had been more of a physical union than anything. The women in New York were a bunch of manipulative, spiteful cats whose idea of intellectual talk consisted of sordid gossip. 

Though she may have hailed from Nowheresville, Maine, Belle was fully appraised of current events, politics, religion, art, literature…And not in a superficial way. She seemed to know a little about every subject. He couldn’t wait to show her around New York and let her soak up the knowledge there. The society ladies would try to destroy her, no doubt, but she would either win them over or beat them at their own game. Knowing Belle, she would be too sensible to be entrapped by such loftiness and she would remain independent of them. But she would have his friendship and she could have his company whenever she desired it. He would love nothing better than to have this beautiful, captivating woman on his arm…

_Neal was right._

_Neal._

Gold’s spirit slowly sank and he took a swig of tea, wishing it were something stronger. Belle was Neal’s fiancée. For a few minutes there, he had unintentionally daydreamed of Belle as his fiancée…no his wife! Him, of all people! He was not the marrying kind. Besides, Neal had met Belle first. He had no business thinking of his future daughter-in-law in that sense. 

_Oh, good Lord, I’m attracted to her!_ Gold sucked in a ragged breath and tried to focus on the flowery pattern on the tea cup. I’m attracted to my future daughter-in-law! He had never claimed to be the most moral man, but there were lines that even he wouldn’t cross. And this was one of them. With his money and connections, he could have his pick of more worldly women, but no, he had to fall for his son’s fiancée!

“You never said how you and Neal met.” Gold interrupted their conversation about women’s suffrage, thinking it best to bring Neal back into the focus. 

Belle’s smile waned and wiped her mouth. “Oh, it was four weeks ago, at church. Neal asked if he could walk me home and he took me on a number of drives.” She averted her gaze and said off-handedly, “He is very sweet. You raised him well, Mr. Gold.”

Something about her response unnerved him. Well, several somethings. _Four weeks._ Neal and Belle had only known each other for four weeks! He had been aware that they had not known each other long, but four weeks was not enough time to form an attachment. Not when they came from such different places and knew so little of the world. Belle might have been old enough for a short courtship, but Neal certainly was not. Then there was the fact that Neal had yet to acquaint Belle with his history. That was not the sort of thing to keep from the woman you were going to marry. 

He had allowed himself to be swept away by Belle’s companionship and her pretty face, that he had forgotten to stay focused. Though he had promised Neal that he would apologize and be supportive, he could not quiet his thoughts. 

There was something very wrong with this arrangement. 

“I didn’t raise him at all, but yes, he’s a fine boy.” Gold replied, sounding harsher than he intended to, but he had to get to the bottom of this. If he could just understand why Belle and Neal persisted with their engagement, despite the fact that it made no sense. “It’s a shame that you don’t love each other.”

Belle had lifted her cup off the saucer and in her astonishment, she dropped it. The sound of china breaking echoed throughout the shop. Tea sloshed across the table and they had use the cloth napkins to absorb the mess. 

“That’s not true.” Gone was the sweet, playful expression that she had sported for most of their meal. In its place was the fiercely determined scowl that he had seen yesterday. “Neal and I care deeply-”

“Not ‘care’ dearie. Love. There is a difference.” Gold shook his head, disregarding Mrs. Potts who fluttered about their table, seeing to the spill. He had been young once, he could understand overwhelming passions; after all, that was how Neal was created. But that wasn’t it at all. “I could understand if you two insisted to marry because you loved one another, but marrying because you mere ‘liked’ one another, is ludicrous.”

“You lied to me, you’re not sorry at all.” Belle’s lower lip poked out into a pout and her eyes grew shiny. 

Gold refused to be manipulated by tears, no matter how real they seemed. He leaned forward, undeterred. “It is not my intention to be insulting, but I call things as I see them. Neal is my son, my only son, and I will protect him despite all costs.” 

Whether she realized it or not, it was for her own good too that this sham of an engagement ended before it got out of hand. For the life of them, he could not figure Belle French out. He had always prided himself on being an excellent study of character, but she was confusing. Instead of a scheming harpy that he expected to meet, Belle was genuinely a good person. She was sweet, she loved her parents dearly, she had good morals – yet Gold knew that she was marrying his son for his money.

“What game are you playing, Miss French?” Gold asked.

“This is not a game, Mr. Gold.” Belle inclined her head back, to the point her pert nose was in the air. “Neal and I wish to marry, it is as simple as that. I hope that you will give us your approval, but we will marry without it. That’s right: we are marrying, Mr. Gold, and you can’t stop us.”

Gold frowned. He was botching their tête-à-tête and breaking his promise to Neal by confronting Belle, yet he couldn’t let it rest. Not when he had her alone and might have a chance of getting the truth out of her. 

“I have no intention of stopping you.” He tented his hands, pressing his fingertips together. “But see this from my perspective- my only son comes to me and informs me that he is engaged to a woman – a woman he has known all of four weeks. The word love is not used by either of them. Can you not understand why I am worried?”

“And people in New York always marry for love?” Belle countered, one of her brows arched. 

“The majority have arranged marriages, however they have money and connections. You have neither, yet we both know you are scheming to get your hands on my son’s inheritance.” Gold bit down on his tongue, immediate regretting what he had said to her. He was not generally known for his tact, but even he had better manners than that. To wound a lady in public no less, was beyond cruel. 

Belle blinked repeatedly, then scooting her chair out, she rose to her feet. “I have had enough.” Her voice was deeper and he knew that she was on the verge of tears. “You may have money and power, you may have a relationship with your son - although I wouldn’t call it that.” She retorted, her lips pressed in a thin line. “But you are without love, so how dare you judge Neal or I for our choices.” Stepping out from behind the table, she gave him a curt nod. “Good day, Mr. Gold.”

Gold watched her leave the establishment, ashamed of himself for his behavior. It was one thing to argue with Belle, to watch her get worked up, for her face to get gloriously red. He had to be careful, not to think of her like that too often. It led to other thoughts…thoughts of them in bed together, battling it out, their sweaty bodies entangled, his lips and tongue searching out the places that would drive her wild… 

_Damn it, there I go again!_ He took a swig of his tea, to help him focus.

Belle wasn’t some mousy girl who needed to be coddled; he liked that she was fiery. But he hadn’t intended to make her cry. Nor had he expected for him to tear him to shreds with her cutting words. To tell him to his face that his relationship with Neal was broken or that he was without love…Belle was right though and that’s what hurt the most.

Gold drew his billfold out of his pocket, left enough money on the table to pay for their meal and the broken cup, and left before he fell prey to his own emotions. 

#

Gold had polished off another snifter of scotch and licked his lips, savoring its musky flavor. He could go for another glass, but he didn’t want to overdo it and he had a feeling that the next several days would be as difficult, if not worse. 

He spent much of the afternoon wandering the streets of Storybrooke. It was a nice, quaint place as far as small towns go. It was the kind of place you consider home and a place where you marry and having children. A cheerful place, yet he couldn’t enjoy much of the scenery. Not when Belle’s haunting words _…You are without love…_ continued to ring in his ears. Much as he loved Neal, she was right; he had no love in his heart. He never did. 

No one had ever loved him and no one ever would, Belle made that perfectly clear. 

Gold cringed when he heard Neal moving through the hallway outside his room and wished he had had that second glass of scotch. He sat on the edge of the bed, prepared for the argument that awaited him.

Neal entered and approached, his expression was hopeful. “Well?”

“I made it worse.” Gold shrugged, unable to really explain what happened. One moment they had been laughing and the next they were arguing. “I didn’t mean to; I went with the intention to reconcile with Miss French, but I... It started out well enough, then ended very badly.” 

_Bad indeed, you had dirty thoughts about her._ Gold rubbed the furrow from his brow and then the worst thought imaginable occurred to him. 

Perhaps the reason Belle and Neal were rushing to the altar was because she was with child. Belle carrying Neal’s child! His stomach knotted at the idea and bile started to rise in his esophagus. He could not bear the thought of Belle having Neal’s children. It was simply wrong. 

“Four weeks of acquaintance?” Gold inhaled and exhaled a few times and the nausea began to subside. “Neal, is there something that I should know? Am I to be a grandfather?”

Neal’s eyes bulged and he seemed horrified at the suggestion. “Papa, no!” He scrunched his nose, disgusted, “Belle and I, we have not...We are not you and mother.”

_Thank God!_ Gold closed his eyes and said a prayer of thanks. He didn’t know why he was so repulsed at the idea of Belle and Neal… they were getting married, it was only natural to assume that they would eventually consummate their marriage. However, the thought of Belle in any man’s bed but his own made him ill. Oh God, I want my future daughter-in-law! He was attracted to her and wanted her for himself. 

“Sorry.” Gold dismissed the notion with a flustered wave. “I’ll make amends, of course.” He promised, thinking it was the least he could do for all the trouble he had caused the last few days. “I’ll pay for the whole damn wedding. I will take care of it all.”

Neal still did not look pleased. “Do you know what I want? I want my father and my fiancée to get along.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he asked, “Is that too much to ask?”

“No.” Gold muttered, shaking his head.

He’d try to see Belle again in the morning and offer a genuine apology. But for now, he needed to rest and reign in his lecherous thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Neal talk; Gold talks to Colette and Maurice; then Gold and Belle talks...yes this chapter is full of conversations. ;)

 

Belle swiped at her damp cheeks, determined to keep the evidence of her tears to herself, lest the people of Storybrooke notice and start with their whispers. News of her engagement was on the tip of every wagging tongue in town, so the news of her future father-in-law disgracing her in public would be soon to follow.

She stumbled along the sidewalk, wincing as the heel of her right boot pivoted and was nearly pitched forward onto her knees. Her lower lip quivered again and a fresh batch of tears flooded her eyes. The meal had been going well; and Mr. Gold were getting along and they had several fascinating conversations. He was an intriguing man, very layered, a mystery to be uncovered. Nothing would have pleased her more than to have unearthed his whole story and learnt about him. In an attempted to pay him a complement for raising such a nice young man, she had either said the wrong thing or Mr. Gold had been feigning kindness all along. He confronted her once more, claiming that she didn’t love Neal and was playing games.

 _He’s right._ Belle saw the park up head and hurried through the arched iron gate entrance, hoping to lose herself in the small maze of flowers and bushes. _I don’t love Neal._ Much as she would try to love him, she could only admit to caring for her fiancé, and that seemed to irritate Mr. Gold all the more. She never would have pegged the Scotsman for a romantic. Mr. Gold was reserved, stiff and rude – the only time she witnessed any passion in him was when he was arguing with her. His cold eyes became fiery and his generally pale complexion heightened to a dusky pigmentation. When he would shake his head, his longish hair would move, and his pixie shaped ears would be in view.

 _Those were cute…cute enough to nibble on!_ Belle stopped in the middle of the path and pressed her palm to her chest. _Where did that come from?_ Heat rose to her cheeks and suddenly her skin felt like it was on fire. Such sensations she never had before! Strange thoughts like that had cropped up off on and during their latest argument, how she’d like to silence Mr. Gold by kissing him…just to see how the haughty Scotsman would react. By her measurements, his mouth would fit hers perfectly…She would have to try it on for size to be certain though.

“Belle!”

Belle snapped out of her peculiar trance and felt the blood drain from her face as Neal approached. _Egads! I am having wicked thoughts about my fiancé’s father!_ She gulped and knew that she had to be evil to the core. It was wrong to have such sensual thoughts about a man…especially if that man was going to be her father-in-law!

When Neal reached her, she heard him heave a world-weary sigh. “We need to talk.”

“We do.” Belle agreed, nodding.

Neal led her to a park bench and they sat down.

She studied her fiancé and wondered why she couldn’t summon up any feelings of passion or wicked thoughts for him. He was a good man, nice looking, kind, but she didn’t view him that way. She couldn’t view him that way.

Neal ran his hand through his hair and then rubbed the base of his neck. “I apologize that my father has given you so much trouble. He is generally not like this.” He paused and corrected himself. “Well, that’s not entirely true, but the worst thing he has ever done in public is told the hosts of a dinner party that they looked like they had put on weight.”

Belle swallowed an unladylike chortle. It was no great stretch of the imagination to envision the Scotsman making offensive remarks to people he did not like. Comical as it was, his scathing remarks had left more than a lasting impression on her. Much as she wanted to provide for her parents, she didn’t think she could stomach a marriage where she was constantly attacked by her father-in-law. The man would make her life miserable.

“Neal, he really hates me.” Belle’s voice wobbled when she uttered those words. It shouldn’t bother her that Mr. Gold despised her, but it did. She wanted him to like her, to admire her, to respect her. For whatever reason, it went beyond trying to earn his approval. “A marriage is supposed to bring two families together. Not cause dissension. Mr. Gold is right though; we don’t love each other.”

Had Neal loved her, he would have defended her to his father. He would have silenced Mr. Gold’s objections and demanded the respect that was due to a man. But he did none of those things.

And he didn’t bother to argue her point.

“That doesn’t mean we would have a bad union. It could develop into love.” Neal gave a loud gulp and dropped his hands into his lap. “I’m not stupid, Belle. I know you want to provide for your parents and that’s why you’re marrying me. I understand completely and its okay. I can help. As your husband, I could take care of them.”

Belle closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to one of her temples. Neal had known all along that she didn’t love him and was in a sense taking advantage of him. She hadn’t realized how transparent she had been. No wonder Mr. Gold hated her so. Her pathetic attempts of flirtations and encouragement now shamed her.

Cracking her eyes open, Belle shook her head. “Why do you want to marry me? You have a vast selection of girls in New York.”

New York was chock full of girls. Girls with breeding, money, dowries, connections – all she had was a somewhat pleasant face, a limited education which had been formed by extensive reading, and the occasional witty remark. She could not begin to compete with such ladies. Neal Cassidy had been the one to pursue her. Yes, she had accepted his attentions enthusiastically, but he could have courted any number of the girls in Storybrooke. Yet he chose her and she felt that she deserved to know why.

Neal made no response.

“Neal?” Belle probed once more.

Neal folded his arms across his chest – at least that’s how it appeared. But Belle sensed that he was hugging himself. “The girl I do love, Emma Swan, she has been betrothed to a naval captain. Her parents...” He sputtered and shook his head, looking a little shamefaced. “My father and I have sketchy pasts and they couldn’t overlook that. We have money and connections, but no breeding.”

Belle licked her lips. _Of course!_ That was possibly why Neal and Mr. Gold had two different surnames and why the Scotsman had not raised his son. Neal was illegitimate. In a place as small as Storybrooke, people scorned those who were born out of wedlock. They were bastards – it was as simple as that. But in New York and London and such places, people overlooked such things, especially if there were enough money and connections to help influence them.

“I have to marry someone and I like you.” Neal lifted his eyes to hers, looking much younger than his years. He was twenty, but he seemed and behaved far more juvenile. “Please, don’t break things off with me.”

Belle finally saw Neal Cassidy for what he really was – a broken-hearted young man who was desperate to make a match, either to spite his true love or to make himself feel better. It was silly and foolish and it made no sense whatsoever. She wanted to be angry with him for dragging her into his troubles, for subjecting her to his rude father, for not being completely honest with her.

But she wasn’t angry; she could understand and she pitied him. She didn’t love him, but she had told Mr. Gold the truth when she said she cared about Neal. Unable to quite explain how she cared about him or why, she could only insist that she did. Depressed as he was, Neal needed someone to protect him.

  
Their marriage would benefit them both. He would have a wife and he would feel better from being parted from his true love, and she and her parents would be taken care of.

Yes, it can still work out. She decided.

Belle reached over and placed her hand on Neal’s, squeezing his fingers. “I gave you my word, Neal.” She assured him, hoping to ease his fears. “We will see this through.”

Neal mouthed an inaudible “thank you” and slumped against the back of the bench.

#

Gold loitered outside the French’s house a good ten minutes before screwing up the courage to climb the steps and knock. He was holding his breath the whole time, terrified that he would come face to face with Belle again. An apology was due her, but he didn’t know if he could face her so soon after their argument yesterday. Not to mention the risqué thoughts he had entertained about her. He had hoped that a good night’s sleep would put an end to that.

The night was filled with feverish dreams of her arguing with him, shouting, throwing her hands in the air. In the middle of the argument, he flung himself at her, kissing her passionately. He expected her to slap him for taking liberties; instead she threw her arms around his neck, hopped up, and then wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her off to a nearby bed – which should have been a clear indication that it was a dream because it appeared out of nowhere – and then they spent hours making love.

He awoke as flustered as when he retired.

Gold was startled and jumped back when the door opened.

Mrs. French stood before him, her delicate brow creased. “Mr. Gold, come in.” The friendliness that she had shown him the other day was gone, informing him that she was well aware of the debacle at Mrs. Potts’ Tea Shop and was not happy about it. “To what do we owe the pleasure...again?” She asked, ushering him into the house.

“I wanted to speak with you.” Gold shuffled forward, feeling as though the world had been lifted from his shoulders. A quick glimpse around the room, he deduced that Belle was not home and thought it was for the best. This would give him the opportunity to have a talk with her parents and garner their feelings on the engagement. “I have been an incorrigible ass…again.”

He stole a glance at Mr. French, who was in his customary chair. The man’s large, round face was red enough that he feared the man might have a stroke. The man was bound to that chair, unable to move a muscle without assistance, yet Mr. French had the ability to put the fear of God in him. You made my little girl cry. His look read and at that moment, Gold knew he would never win Mr. French over to his side. In that man’s eyes, Belle could do no wrong.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Mr. French narrowed his eyes and his lips curled disdainfully. “I don’t care if you’re wealthy or not - you do not come into my home and insult my family, apologize, and then turn around an insult my daughter once more. In public, no less.” With a flick of the wrist, the man dismissed him, as if he were no better than a servant. “I don’t know where you come from, I don’t care, but good honest people don’t do that. You want our forgiveness, as well as hers, you will have to earn it.”

Gold nodded and counted to ten. He felt that Belle was in the wrong, marrying his son for his money. He would never feel otherwise. However, he could respect Mr. French for defending his daughter despite all costs. The man loved his family and wouldn’t stand to see anyone hurt them. Were anyone to attack Neal – even if Neal were wrong – Gold knew that he would swoop in to defend his son.

Mrs. French’s pretty features twisted into a grimace. She appeared torn between siding with her husband and being polite.

“I will.” Gold assured them and inhaling, he made his offer. “I want to pay for the wedding.” He heard Mr. French make a displeased grunt and held up a finger. “Please, hear me out.”

Mr. French motioned for him to sit on the sofa and Gold took that as a sign that all was not lost. He still had a chance to make his case.

Gold waited until Mrs. French returned with the tea service and had poured him a generous cup before beginning, “I don’t know how to be a father or a good man, really. Neal and I were apart for many years and I want to do right by him, but I don’t know how. All I have is money as a means to solve problems.” Biting the inside of his cheek, he hated feeling so vulnerable before the French’s but he thought it necessary for them to understand his way of thinking and behaving. “I still do have reservations about Neal and Belle’s union; not because I look down on Belle. I like her; she is a lovely, witty, beautiful woman.” He swallowed and wished he had not said that much, especially due to the thoughts he had of Belle. But he had a point to make and he couldn’t stop now. “A woman. But my son is a boy. Do you understand my concerns?”

Silence.

Gold took a hearty swig, regretting that he had not brought a flask of something that way he could make it through this conversation. That Mrs. French could brew a strong cup of tea made a difference though. It would sustain him for now.

Mrs. French perched on the arm of her husband’s chair. Where she chose to sit, the intimacy of the two, sent a pang through Gold’s heart. There was a time in his life that he wanted love like that. Mr. and Mrs. French couldn’t have been more opposite. He was large, blunt, and a former laborer of some sort – that Gold knew because the man’s hands still bore blisters. Mrs. French was proper, dainty, and pretty. Belle took after her mother for the most part; the only claim she had of her father was his obstinate attitude. It was little wonder that Mr. French doted on his daughter; she reminded him of her mother. A flash of her big blue eyes, any man would crumble.

 _Lord knows I have lost my head in regards to her._ Gold thought.

“You think they are mismatched, Mr. Gold?” Mrs. French surmised and laid her hand on her husband’s forearm.

Gold was grateful. There was a small glimmer of hope that Mrs. French might come around to his way of thinking. Perhaps he would have an ally in her. She must have had her own doubts about the engagement, else she wouldn’t have looked so concerned.

“I do.” He wished he could leave it at that, but that would not have been honorable. He had given his word to Neal to smooth things over and not stir up trouble. “But to show my support and to prove that I don’t want to be right, I want to pay for the wedding.”

 _I know I am right. I may not be right about many things in life, but in this, I am._ Gold feigned a smile. He would keep his promise to Neal and be supportive, and somehow keep his feelings to himself. With any luck, as the big day drew near, this scheme of Belle’s would fall apart and she and Neal would go their separate ways. In the meantime, he would pay for the wedding and play an active part in the preparations, that way he could also keep an eye on the situation. If he made a comment here or made a nudge there, he could hardly be faulted for that. Not when it had everyone’s best interest at heart.

Mrs. French gave her husband’s arm a subtle squeeze. Mr. French might be a man of strong opinions, but Gold could tell that he was the kind who often bowed to his wife’s wisdom.

“Not if you continue to upset my daughter.” Mr. French finally replied. “I won’t have it.”

Gold nodded and decided that he would have to be watchful of what he said. “I will hold my tongue.” He promised.

“Very well.” Mr. French raised his chin and narrowed his eyes, leveling his gaze at Gold.

Gold frowned, peeved that the man would not give an inch. And then he understood why and wondered how he could have missed it.

Mr. French knows I’m attracted to Belle. He took another gulp of tea.

Through Mr. French’s eyes he had to appear the lowest of the low. Here he was, the father of the groom, having lecherous thoughts about his future daughter-in-law. He had never been a saint, but clearly he had looser morals than he had thought.

The engagement couldn’t end soon enough. The sooner he and Neal returned to New York and put this whole mess behind them, the better!

#

Belle sensed that there was something off as she mounted the front steps of her house. But she never would have guessed that she would find Mr. Gold visiting with her parents, drinking tea, swapping stories as if they were old friends. Especially after that horrid display at Mrs. Potts Tea Shop.

The man has some nerve. She fumed and gave the door a hard shove closed.

Mr. Gold put his cup down and immediately stood upon her entrance. He looked a little sheepish, which was a welcome change from the hardened expression that he generally wore.

“Mr. Gold, what are you doing here?” Belle asked. Try as she might, she could not keep the bitterness out of her tone.

Mother rose from her place, which had been on the arm of her father’s chair. Her mother never sat like that, unless she was comfortable with the company she was keeping. “Darling, hear Mr. Gold out.” She went to the door and opened it once more, gesturing them outside. “Why don’t you go out onto the porch and talk?”

Mr. Gold nodded for Belle to go first and while she didn’t care to hear anything the Scotsman had to say, out of respect to her mother, she would listen. She trudged out onto the porch and sat down on the swing. Her feet dangled, unable to reach to the bottom.

Mr. Gold sat on the far end of the swing, wincing when the wood creaked under his weight. He drummed his fingers on his thigh, cleared his throat, and proceeded, “Miss French, I am so sorry for yesterday. I was in the wrong-”

Belle rolled her eyes. She was in no mood to hear theatrical apologies, especially when he didn’t mean them. In all likelihood, Mr. Gold would feign kindness, wait until she had a false sense of security, and attack her again. No, she wanted to get to the root of the problem and face it head on.

“Why do you hate me so?” She demanded, interrupting his little speech.

Mr. Gold looked pained and his eyes became a little shiny. “I don’t hate you, Belle. I don’t.” He rasped and shook his head. “You have no reason to believe me, especially since I have been horrible. I think you are a beautiful, intelligent, and remarkable woman.”

Belle sucked in a breath and tears stung her own eyes. Such passionate words from a man who opposed her at every turn. But he seemed earnest and no one – not Neal nor any other boy – had said such complementary things about her. Mr. Gold was not like any boy she had known, obviously because he was in fact a man. And there was something so intriguing about his age and maturity. He wasn’t ridiculous and he didn’t do stupid things; he had his whole life figured out.

“But I’m a father,” Mr. Gold continued, his hand cupped around his knee, “Neal is my only son, and I worry. I will never not worry about him. One day you will understand that when you have children of your own. You’ll do anything for them, including make a fool of yourself to protect them.”

Belle felt both touched and repulsed at the same time. Touched that a man so irritating could profess such love and devotion to his child…and repulsed because if she were to marry Neal, her children would be his. When she permitted his suit and then accepted his proposal, she had thought that love and attraction would grow between them. But it hadn’t, and the more she thought of Neal in that sense, as a husband, the more it unnerved her. The idea of her and Neal together, lying with one another, was unnatural. An abomination somehow.

Her opinion of Mr. Gold, on the other hand, had changed. She had originally not thought of him as husband material, but the more time she spent with him, the better she understood his character. He frustrated her to no end, but he was a man who was wholly devoted to his son; his entire world revolved around Neal. The man was sensual – carnal even - in the way he moved and spoke. Mr. Gold was settled, intelligent, driven, ambitious… he would treat the lady he loved like a queen.

Belle blushed when she realized that she was gaping at her future father-in-law and hoped he did not notice.

“To make amends, I want to pay for the wedding and the honeymoon.” Mr. Gold smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can have whatever you wish.” He insisted.

Belle couldn’t believe her ears and thought her imagination had run away with her. “Mr. Gold, the only thing I want from you is your blessing on the marriage.” She replied.

“Then you shall have it.” The Scotsman’s burr had thickened. He then tore his gaze from hers and glanced down.

“Thank you.” Belle mumbled.

This was exactly what she had wanted, what she and Neal had been working so hard for. But now that she had it, she felt unsatisfied.

Something was wrong…very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://bookwormchocaholic.tumblr.com/post/159222374089/love-and-marriage-chapter-4


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold and Belle fall a little deeper into their lusts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not totally satisfied with the quality of this chapter, but can't procrastinate forever. Its not beta-ed and it probably sucks, so please bear with me.

Belle and Ruby Lucas strolled arm in arm in the city park, basking in the noonday sun, soaking up its warmth. Far better outside than spending their dinner hour at the stuffy boarding house, with Granny hovering near to listen in on their conversation. There was also the fact that Mr. Gold and Neal were stay at the boarding house, so she thought a little distance from them would be a good idea.

“How goes the engagement?” Ruby asked, not-so-subtly changing the subject.

Belle smiled to herself. It had taken her friend all of ten minutes to inquire about the engagement, which was monumental for Ruby. The Lucas girl was the spitten-image of her grandmother – well, as far as dispositions went. Both were bold and opinionated, and grandmother and granddaughter constantly bickered over the most trivial matters. But they loved each other dearly and were devoted to one another.

“Well enough. Mr. Gold is coming around.” Belle replied and decided to keep her complaints and dark passions of her future father-in-law to herself. She had to hand it to Mr. Gold, he was doing better and had been very cordial to her. But since their talk on the porch swing last week, he occupied her thoughts more and more. His unconventional looks, his enigmatic personality and past, his sharp sense of humor. “Neither Neal or I want a long engagement, so we hope to marry next month sometime.” She could feel her temperature rising and hoped that Ruby could not sense that she was thinking of her soon-to-be father-in-law rather than her fiancé.

“Next month!” Ruby halted and whipped around, grasping Belle by the shoulders. Lowering her voice, she hissed, “Belle, are you in the family way?”

Belle disengaged herself and brought her hand to her cheek. “Of course not!”

 _Is that how it looks?_ She scrunched her nose. Did it appear that she was with child and needed to have a shot-gun wedding? Perhaps all of Storybrooke was talking about it behind her back. Again, the idea of her and Neal…together in the Biblical sense, disgusted her. Any lady in her position ought to be attracted to her fiancé. Neal was a catch, but sharing a bed with him seemed akin to sin.

“We are both ready to be married, that is all.” Belle explained dumbly and then frowned at Ruby for making a disgusted face. “What?”

“As your friend, I feel I must frank.” Ruby glanced around and when convinced that no one was eavesdropping or watching them, she continued, “This mad dash to the altar doesn’t make sense. If you told me that you were violently in love and wanted nothing more than to be Mrs. Neal Cassidy, then I would understand. You are a true romantic, but this is all topsy-turvy. I know you; you cannot marry without affection.”

Ruby’s blunt opinions stung, more than they should. If it were a mere disagreement, it would have hurt less. But that her best friend had spoken the truth and had more than proven it to her, Belle was left with her pride wounded and the knowledge that she really was in the wrong.

Ruby was blessed enough by fortune to be able to take the high road. She was not wanting for suitors; her tall, statuesque build, her exotic dark looks, her flirtatious grin – men flocked to her. Her grandmother ran the boarding house and one day she would inherit that business, so even if she could not decide between Mr. Abernathy or Dr. Hopper, Billy or Dr. Whale, she would be able to support herself.

Belle’s mouth twisted in disgust. She hated having to use Neal Cassidy to secure her and her parents future. It was wrong. But what other choice did she have? Let her parents suffer and starve?

“I have no alternative.” Belle retorted, unable to keep her frustrations from bleeding through her words. “My father is ill and my mother is worn out. Another attack will take him and break my mother’s heart.” A couple stray tears rolled down her cheek and she angrily brushed them away. “We have no money, my income is enough for us to eat and for a few other necessities, and we spend every cent of it. Nothing has been saved. I have to do something. I have no other prospects and I never will. Please, don’t judge me, Ruby!” She cried out, frantic to have someone on her side.

Ruby threw her arms around Belle and was patient enough to let her cry on her shoulder.

 _How long has it been since I had a good cry?_ Belle wondered, pressing her face into Ruby’s thin shoulder. Too long, probably. Crying after her first meeting with Mr. Gold didn’t count. That didn’t last more than a couple of minutes. But to cry out her disappointments about her situation, her parents’ ill health, that she was engaged to a man she didn’t love and would spend the rest of her life with him, that she was having wicked thoughts about her future father-in-law – she hadn’t let out that torrent of emotions lately. To bring her woes to her parents would be selfish; they already had enough to contend with.

“Miss French?”

On hearing Mr. Gold’s brogue, Belle sobs quickly subsided. Tearing away from Ruby’s comforting embrace, she mopped her face dry with the hanky that her friend thrust at her. Sucking in a deep breath, she slowly turned and though it was obvious that she had been upset, from her pinkened complexion and congested nose, she prayed that the Scotsman wouldn’t pry.

She had expected to find Mr. Gold smug and haughty, with a barb on the tip of his tongue, but his expression looked pained, as though he might genuinely care.

“Mr. Gold, what are you doing here?” Her voice was thick and slurred by emotion.

“Same as you, I imagine. Enjoying a leisurely stroll.” Mr. Gold responded and nodded in Ruby’s direction, barely casting the Lucas girl a glance. “Miss Lucas to be your maid of honor, I assume.”

“Ruby will stand up with me, yes.” Belle swallowed, attempting to moderate her tone. She sounded a little better, at least. “Mr. Gold, we talked about this. I do not require an elaborate wedding. Something small and private would more than suffice.”

Mr. Gold had it in that thick head of his that the French family should join them at his mansion in New York and went as far as inviting her there. That way they could make “proper” preparations for their society wedding. Of course, when she and Neal married, she and her parents would go to live in his house with them, but she couldn’t fathom the idea of having a wedding there. A small-town girl, forced into the lion’s den so to speak, having to contend with the other debutantes, all the while planning a large society wedding.

 _This is my wedding!_ And if she wanted it in pokey, ol’ Storybrooke, then that was precisely where they would have it. Mr. Gold might be paying for the whole affair, but she was the bride and he had promised her that she could have whatever she wanted.

“Why would you not wish to celebrate such a happy occasion?” Mr. Gold took a step forward, close enough that she could feel his cinnamon scented breath on her cheek. “Love is such a rare thing.”

Belle swallowed hard. The image of them in bed, tussling about naked, their breathing labored, him dragging his lips across her breasts – crept into her mind. She gave a slight shake of her head, to dispel them. He was only trying to unnerve her again, to wear down her resolve by needling her and mentioning love. She wasn’t naïve; Mr. Gold wasn’t the kind to believe in love or romance. Despite her numerous wicked thoughts about him, he’d no more consider love and marriage with her… with any woman. After all, he obviously had not married Neal’s mother, or else he and Neal would have the same surname. Mr. Gold was like many wealthy men; he had mistresses.

“I’ll celebrate it in my own way, thank you.” She declared.

Mr. Gold studied her through narrowed eyes. “Perhaps we can discuss it further this evening. Your parents invited me for supper.”

Belle frowned, wishing that he’d stop visiting with her parents. He only went because it irritated her, and possibly to unearth a dark secret of hers to use against her. “I look forward to it.” She said, through gritted teeth.

Mr. Gold nodded to her and swept past.

“You and Mr. Gold certainly have a complicated relationship.”

Belle jumped when she heard Ruby. She sheepishly turned back to her friend, feeling terrible that she had forgotten that Ruby was there the whole time. This had happened before. Once Neal had been present during one of her fiery discussions with Mr. Gold, which was mortifying, considering that Neal was her fiancé.

Surely Ruby would be on her side now, after witnessing that heated exchange.

“Complicated is putting it mildly.” Belle closed her eyes and shook her head mournfully. “He still hates me.”

Ruby arched a brow and giggled, “Belle, I don’t think Mr. Gold hates you.”

Her friend had to have been blind not to see how much Mr. Gold loathed her. Generally, Ruby was a good judge of character, but in this case, Mr. Gold had her deceived.

“Trust me, he does.” Belle insisted and reclaiming her friend’s arm, she led the way back to the boarding house. She had work to do and had the monumental task of putting Mr. Gold out of her thoughts.

She had to concentrate on the positive: the wedding and that her parents would be cared for, and that was all that really mattered.

#

Gold emerged from his room at the boarding house, shrugging on his suit jacket and descending down the stairs, he found Neal loitering near the fireplace in the parlor. “Ready?” he asked his son.

Neal nodded and trailed him outside. As they strolled through the neighborhood in the direction of the French’s house, Gold noticed that his boy was more or less dragging his feet. Neal looked as though he’d rather have his wisdom teeth yanked out than spend time in the company of his lovely fiancée. Yet another confirmation that Neal and Belle should not wed, but Gold kept that to himself.

 _I think I am more looking forward to spending time with the Belle and her parents than he is._ Though they had come from a world very different from his, Gold had grown to like the French’s. Mrs. French was polite, intelligent, kind, gentle… Mr. French not so much, but Gold liked that the man was blunt and didn’t put on airs. Then there was Belle.

A pang of guilt burrowed down into the pit of his gut. It was sharp enough to make him grit his teeth and regret some of his recent actions. He had gone on a walk in the park around noon, to stretch his legs and enjoy the seasonable weather. While he was there, he had stumbled onto Belle and Ruby Lucas. Belle was in hysterics and Ruby did her best to comfort her friend. Belle’s words were muffled, so he could not be certain what the cause of her tears were, but feared he might have been the one to cause her misery. It was that, or the engagement had made her miserable. Either way she was fit to be tied when he interrupted.

But it gave him reason to hope, that deep down, Belle did not wish to marry Neal.

Gold dug through the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a missive. “I received a telegram from New York. The office needs our assistance with an order.”

The manager had botched a huge order and though the man should set it to rights, Gold couldn’t rest easy until he knew it had been put to rights.

“Do - do you intend to r-return?” Neal stammered. His eyes were wide as they could be and Gold sensed that he was terrified of being left alone with Belle and the French’s.  
Gold knew that he was right in executing the plan he had come up with earlier that morning. “No, I intend to send you in my stead.” He answered.

“Papa, separating us won’t-” Neal protested.

Gold rolled his eyes and waved his son off. “That’s not what I am doing.”

 _That’s precisely what I’m doing._ He hated to lie, but he thought a little time apart would do Belle and Neal a world of good. Belle might have second thoughts about her scheme and Neal might patch things up with Miss Emma Nolan. Gold wouldn’t do much more than send Neal off; he promised not to meddle per se. He’d operate under the guise that he would remain in Storybrooke to assist Belle with what she needed. If he made a comment here or there to Belle, to nudge her in another direction, then all the better for them.

“If you intend to marry Miss French, then you must assume the responsibility of provider.” Gold feigned a strained smile. He wanted to pat himself on the back for the excuse he came up with to send his boy back to New York. In many ways, it made sense. “After all, when you marry, you will not only take on Belle, but you will be taking on her parents. You must be able to manage matters at the office, as well as make a proper home for them, without my guidance.” When his son’s eyes bulged at the mention of taking on so many responsibilities, Gold knew that he was on the right track. He hated to be hard on the boy, but better that Neal understand what marriage would all entail. While Gold wanted to help his son, if they married, he would not continue to treat Neal like a boy. He would have to take his place as a man. “You will be gone no more than a week. In the meantime, I will assist Miss French in whatever she needs me to do. And I can get to know her better.”

He waited for Neal to fight him on it. Were Neal truly dedicated to Belle, he would fight for her. He should be willing to fight to the death for her. That’s what I’d do if she were my fiancée or wife. Gold reasoned.

“Belle will not like this.” Neal muttered under his breath.

Gold closed his eyes and exhaled. _Thank God._ Neal was going to take the easy way out. He’d go back to New York and forget about Belle French. Better this than marrying and finding out they made a mistake and having to live with that mistake for the rest of their lives. Gold could not bear to have either Neal or Belle be in a loveless marriage. They deserved better. Neal needed someone suited for him, and Belle… that impetuous, passionate woman would find the right man. One of who would live and die for her, make her family his own, and give her the security that she desired.

“No, I am sure she will not.” Gold snickered, shaking his head. He could see her now, her delicate features pinched, her cheeks rosy, her eyes aflame. “Miss French doesn’t seem to like anything that I do.”

In many ways, Belle was already like a wife to him. Nagging after him, correcting him, quibbling over every little thing. Had they met under different circumstances…she was his ideal woman. They’d end up like an old married couple before they could be considered old, but the idea of them, fighting and then working things out between the sheets, brought a genuine smile to his face. Life would never be dull if he could marry Belle. Nothing would make him happier.

“Papa?”

Gold snapped out of his fantasy and glanced at his son, once more flustered that he was still entertaining such thoughts about his future daughter-in-law.

Neal was watching him; a look of bewilderment crossing his face. “Please don’t meddle.” He implored.

“I won’t.” Gold promised.

#

Belle stalked out on the front porch. She was fuming. It wouldn't surprise her if smoke was spewing out of her ears.

The meal had gone well; Mr. Gold and Neal seemed to enjoy her and her mother’s cooking. They adjourned to the sitting room, settled her father in his chair, and then had some tea and cake. In the middle of it all, Neal announced that he had to return to New York for a week for business. Something about a kerfuffle at the factory. Normally she would understand, but when Mr. Gold had begun to fidget on the sofa like a restless schoolboy, Belle knew he was behind it all.

The front door opened and closed. Half expecting it to be Mr. Gold himself, Belle swung around, ready to give the Scotsman a piece of her mind. When she came face to face with Neal, she hoped she didn’t look too disappointed. Irritating as Mr. Gold was, there was a part of her that had wanted it to be him.

Belle put her hands on her hips, she tilted her head and glared expectantly at her fiancé. “And how are we to plan our wedding if you are absent?”

“It is not as though you will need me.” Neal shrugged and he drug the toe of his shoe against the pavement. “I am agreeable to whatever you prefer. My father said that he would stay here to lend a hand.”

“Oh, yes, I am sure he would love to do that.” Belle gave an unladylike snort and threw one of her hands in the air.

Her instincts had not failed her. Despite the promise he made her, that she had his blessing and would be supportive, Mr. Gold had gone back on his word. In all likelihood, he had concocted this business matter to send Neal off, that way he’d have an easier time stirring up trouble if Neal were away. God only knows what mischief that Scotsman would make. Mr. Gold had more or less befriended her parents, often visiting, bringing by newspapers and books. She wasn’t fooled; he was trying to win her parents over and she could tell that her mother was mellowing towards him.

Neal ducked his head, refusing to meet her eye. “Papa promised that he won’t interfere.” He mumbled unconvincingly. “He made a good point though. I must provide for us. And for your parents. So, I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

Belle sighed. Had Mr. Gold really said that? About caring for her parents? If so, what was his motive? It sounded generous, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that even if Mr. Gold was being considerate of her parents and thinking along those lines, he was still plotting against her.

There was no point in arguing. Neal was already caving to his father’s demands, so he wouldn’t side with her. This was how their marriage would be: Neal being at his father’s beck and call, giving no thought to her or what she wanted. His heart belonged to someone else, after all. She would never be first in his affections…but then again, he could never be first in hers either.

Pressing her fingertips to her temple, Belle gave a shake of her head, and returned inside. Mr. Gold shot to his feet on her entrance and seemed rather subdued, especially when she shot him a scathing look.

“Well, what say you, Miss French?” Mr. Gold asked, clasping his hands behind his back. “Do you agree with our plan?”

Belle brushed past him and slumped onto the sofa next to her mother. “Your plan, you mean. I suppose I have little choice.” She locked eyes with her future father-in-law, letting him know she wasn’t fooled. He held her gaze for a full minute before tearing his away and taking a seat on one of the chairs they had brought in from the kitchen.

Neal lingered in the doorway, somewhat detached from it all.

“I think it’s a splendid idea.” Mother said aloud.

Belle couldn’t believe her ears. Now Mother is siding with Mr. Gold! She hoped and prayed her mother would not start to take Mr. Gold’s side. Her sole reason for marrying Neal was so that her parents would be provided for. So, she needed as much support as she could get.

“We are to be family, Mr. Gold; we ought to know you better.” Mother smiled and turned towards her husband for him to concur. “Isn’t that right, Maurice?”

“What?” Her father shifted in his chair and grunted, “Oh, yes, of course. I can hardly wait.”

Belle averted her eyes fearing that she’d succumb to tears if she looked anyone in the face. She sensed that her father was watching her and her suspicions were confirmed when she heard the chair creak and he reached over and patted her wrist.

At least Father is on my side.

It would all be worth it though, it had to be. Once she and Neal were married, and her father was receiving the best care and her mother was no longer weary, Belle was convinced that she’d look back on all of this and laugh.

#

Gold lingered outside on the sidewalk in front of the French’s home while Neal and Belle said their goodbyes at the door. He kept his head low, but watched from the corner of his eye, to observe what kind of parting it would be. When they bid each other farewell, sharing only a brief hug, he felt his nausea abate. He didn’t think he could stomach the thought of Belle kissing his son. He would end up retching in the French’s bushes.

Another bit of proof that this sham of a wedding shouldn’t continue. _Surely, I’m not the only one to have noticed their lukewarm feelings._ Were he the one parting from Belle for a week, he’d kiss her passionately enough that she would never be in doubt of his devotion. No, he wouldn’t leave her at all. Either she’d join him in New York or he’d stay right in Storybrooke. The point was, they’d be together.

Neal bounded down the steps, almost as though he were eager to put as much distance between himself and Belle.

 _There’s no point in denying it._ Gold huffed. Neal and Belle did not wish to marry one another and this whole marriage scheme was a disaster. They needed to break it off, the sooner the better. _Then there are my feelings for Belle._ He closed his eyes and shook his head. Denying his attraction to Belle would be like denying the earth was round. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her for himself. He had to have a care though; that he intervened for the right reasons. _Belle French hates me; there was no reason to hope that if she broke things off with Neal, that she’d look at me twice._ That would be crass; to swoop in and steal his son’s fiancée.

“Mr. French was staring at you off and on throughout the visit.” Neal observed as they headed back to the boarding house.

Mr. French more than stared. He had made insulting remarks the whole evening. Then when he shook the man’s hand before they left, Mr. French nearly squeezed the life out of his fingers.

“He really hates me.” Gold replied, flexing his hand once more.

“Can you blame him, Papa? You haven’t made it easy for anyone.” Neal reminded him.

Gold frowned; the last thing he wanted was a lecture from his son. “I’m trying. It hasn’t been easy for me.” He insisted and it then occurred to him that he nearly gave himself away. That he still vehemently opposed the wedding and wanted the bride for himself. “Do you know of a way I can get into his good graces?”

“He certainly likes cake. Just not orange cake.”

Gold knew there had to be some sort of story behind that. “Why not orange cake?” he asked, thinking that it didn’t sound very appetizing to him.

“I can’t remember.” Neal shook his head. “You’ll have to get Belle to tell you; it’s some silly family story.” His son merely continued on to the boarding house.

Gold bit down on his tongue, to prevent himself from speaking up. Though his son was not in love with Belle, he felt the boy really should be more attentive to the French family. They were decent folk. Gold decided that if he succeeded in detaching Neal from Belle, that he’d have to make some sort of provisions for the French family, that way they would be taken care of.

They need never know that he was their benefactor. They’d only have to live comfortably and be happy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding preparations begins; Belle asks Gold about his past.

Belle craned her neck and leaned her head back to study the collection of new titles that had recently come into the shop. She was supposed to be there on an errand to buy a few odds and ends for the boarding house. But a small detour to the book section – which consisted of one shelf mounted on the wall at the back of the room – wouldn’t hurt. Not that she could afford to buy one; it had been ages since she bought a new book. Gazing upon the titles and smelling the crisp freshness of the pages had to be enough.

A shadow fell upon her and when she spun around, she nearly knocked down a table of ink and stationary with the basket hanging off her elbow.

Mr. Gold dove for the two glass inkwells that went flying and caught them before they hit the floor. He put them in their rightful place and smoothed out the scattered piles of stationary.

Belle covered her mouth to stifle a string of giggles. She never thought she’d be thankful to see her future father-in-law, but had he not been there, she would have ended up paying for the busted inkwells, as well as any damage they did to the floor.

Mr. Gold straightened up. His mouth shaped into a conspiratorial smile. He looked almost impish. “Wonderful, the very person I wished to see.” He clapped his hands together. “Are you busy?”

“I am, actually. I am running errands for Granny Lucas.” Belle raised the basket and shook it, showing the items she had yet to purchase.

Mr. Gold’s smile waned and his eyes narrowed. His customary mask slid back on. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You no longer have to work, if you do not wish to. We are not family yet, but I like to take care of my own.” He pointed out.

“How very thoughtful,” Belle frowned. Stepping around him, she headed in the direction of the counter. “But Granny still needs someone to assist her at the boarding house. She is up there in years, you know.”

She was marrying Neal for his money, yes, for her parents’ sakes. But that did not mean she was about to become one of those society ladies that never lifted a finger and spent all of her free time organizing charity functions. Working out the boarding house was tiring and not enjoyable necessarily, but it gave her something challenging to do. Besides, she got to meet all sorts of interesting people. To take advantage of her father-in-law’s supposed generosity made her sick to her stomach.

Mr. Gold’s hand landed on her shoulder, urging her to face him once more. His touch was…electrifying. It was an innocent gesture, but his strong, tapering fingers sent a jolt through her. Nothing would have pleased her more if he strayed a little lower! _I like to take care of my own…_ Those words had no hidden meaning behind them, but she knew as much as the Scotsman irritated her, he was devoted to those he loved. She didn’t belong to him, no more than he belonged to her, although there was a small part of her that wished she did.

Belle drew back, fearing that she would betray herself, in a public place no less! Heat raised to the surface of her cheeks and she averted her eyes, praying that no one noticed her state.

“I see.” Mr. Gold frowned and stepped back as well. “May I be frank?”

She rolled her eyes, sincerely doubting that the man ever kept a thought to himself. “When are you not, Mr. Gold? What is it?”

“Mrs. Lucas is perfectly capable of running her own boarding house.” Mr. Gold held up a finger to quiet her protests and in a kinder tone, he continued, “There is nothing wrong with her, she will likely outlive us all. I think hiring you was the Lucas’ way of showing you charity. They care for you and I really believe that they will understand if you quit.” He licked his lips, making trickle of sweat roll down her chest, and wish that she could undo the buttons of her bodice. That tongue of his never seemed to be still. “Besides, you will be moving to New York soon enough. You will have to quit anyway.”

Belle blinked and hoped that her dismay wasn’t too evident. Of course, she and her parents would be moving to New York once she and Neal married. That was something she had always known. But to start cutting off her ties to Storybrooke now seemed premature. To say farewell to the coast and the sea and the peaceful countryside, all for New York, seemed a hardship indeed! Yes, New York had the sea too, but it wouldn’t be the same. New York would certainly be an adventure of a lifetime; she had always wanted to visit. But that was when she knew that she would come home to Storybrooke.

Mr. Gold continued to stare straight at her and that was when she knew that he was testing her. To see if she would follow through. He wanted her to fail.

 _He won’t get the better of me!_ She vowed.

Much as she hated to quit working for Granny Lucas, she had to do it for her parents’ sake. The good woman would understand. Granny had been a friend to the French family for years and Mr. Gold was right in that respect; the woman had been trying to help when she offered her a job.

“Right. Of course.” Belle nodded towards the owner. “I must pay for these and then I was will speak to Granny.” She carried the supplies over and deposited them on the counter, feeling his gaze on her.

His habit of staring at her was unnerving, but that was his intention. She wouldn’t let him succeed; no matter how difficult he made things for her.  
In the end the struggle would be worth it.

#

Belle dabbed her hanky to the corners of her eyes and slid it back into her reticule before leaving the boarding house for the last time. She was not about to let Mr. Gold see her cry. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction. The Scotsman had chosen to remain on the front porch steps, which had been a relief to her because she didn’t want him eavesdropping on her conversation with Granny. Tears had been shed by both her and the older woman, but they parted on good terms, and Granny wished her well.

Taking a deep breath, Belle moved outside, prepared to face her future father-in-law. What greeted her was a salty breeze off the sea, one that stirred her skirts and loosened her hair from her pins. But her gaze was focused on the image of the wind tussling Mr. Gold’s longish crop. She imagined his hair to be soft; it looked soft and wavy. To test that theory though…to sit in his lap and run her fingers through it.

 _I never have such wicked thoughts about Neal._ She noted. Neal was younger and kinder, far less confusing, yet it was his father that drove her into a mad passion.

“All right, that is settled. I am at your disposal.” Belle brushed past Mr. Gold, traipsing down the steps. Turn towards him, she stared at him through slanted eyes, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “May I assume that you didn’t seek me out to encourage me to quit my job? What is it that you really wanted to speak to me about?”

“Wedding preparations.” Was Mr. Gold’s clipped reply. He rose to his feet and edged closer to her. “More specifically, your trousseau. If the wedding is next month, work on the gown must being immediately.”

“I insist on something small. We are a quiet set of people.” Belle informed him.

On that she would not be moved. Mr. Gold had been pulling the strings, making them all dance for him. Neal did his bidding and left her for New York, claiming to attend to the foundation that their life would be built upon. Not only that, she and her parents would be trading Storybrooke for the great metropolis. Mr. Gold had more or less insinuated himself in her life, but her wedding day would be her own. She would not conform to his wishes on that.

“Of course.” Mr. Gold bowed his head and offered her his arm. “Why don’t we go somewhere and you can tell me exactly what you want.”

Belle took his arm, albeit reluctantly. First because she was irritated with him for his meddlesome ways…and then because she enjoyed his presence far more than she should. But she couldn’t resist the sincere expression in his amber colored eyes.

#

Gold lingered in the door way of the seamstress’ shop, leaning his shoulder against the frame, feeling more than out of place. He had assumed that a trip to Boston would be necessary, to find what his future daughter-in-law required for her wedding. Most brides would be scrambling to have a high society wedding, to be the center of attention, to have everyone worship the ground they walked on. The ladies in New York lived for that sort of thing. Not Belle French, though. He was surprised to learn that Belle wanted nothing more than a small church wedding and a carry-in afterwards for her family and friends to enjoy.

It was all so very deucedly simple. There was no doubt in his mind that Belle was marrying Neal for his money, but her motives for doing so were not mercenary. He was willing to wager a year’s profits that she was marrying Neal to provide a better life for her parents. Everything she did was in service to them. Her devotion to them was commendable, but that didn’t make her choice to marry Neal any wiser.

Gold’s gaze swung to where Belle and her mother stood, leafing through a booklet of patterns. _Does Mrs. French know?_ Mrs. French hardly seemed like the social climbing kind; she didn’t have a scheming bone in her body. Mr. French would never encourage such a thing; he had too much pride. He didn’t want to impose on anyone and would rather die than ask for help. No, they had to be none-the-wiser of their daughter’s intentions.

He watched as Mrs. French pointed to several of the samples and Belle dismissed each one with a slight shake of the head. Belle whispered something to her mother, though he didn’t know what, he figured it had to do with the expense.

Grinding his teeth, he remembered his former promise. He had offered to pay for the entire wedding and though he hoped her plans would fall through, Belle’s idea of a wedding would be far less pricey than a wedding in New York. To him, it would cost practically nothing. She ought to have the wedding she wants. Gold closed his eyes and wanted to kick himself. It was insane; he was trying to sabotage the engagement and yet he wanted her to have whatever her heart desired. Nothing – not his thoughts or feelings – made since when it came to Belle French.

Gold shuffled to the counter and glanced over Belle’s shoulder. The patterns in the booklet far simpler than what they were in New York. Belle French would be wearing the dress, the dress would not be wearing her.

Gold informed her. “Choose whatever you like. Money is no object.” When Belle turned to him, he was loathed to back away. She had been so close to him…enough that he smelled the lavender scented soap she used to wash with. “Miss French, clothes must be bought, money must be spent. You will have to learn to suffer through it.”

“That isn’t necessary-” Belle had begun to protest, but was cut off by her mother.

Mrs. French tugged on her daughter’s sleeve, directing her attention back to one of the designs. “This is nice, darling. Simple, but elegant. It would suite the church.”

Gold glimpsed at it. It was simple, but the end result would be breathtaking. A slim cut gown with a square neckline, lace sleeves and lace overlay. Belle would look like an angel swathed in white as she made her way down the aisle. To Neal.

I’d give anything for her to walk down that aisle to me. He swallowed hard, enough for it to hurt.

“It is beautiful.” Belle admitted, sounding wistful. To his dismay, she shook her head. “But I would only be able to wear it once.”

Not that he was familiar with wedding dresses and bridal traditions, but Gold thought that was the practice. A wedding gown as fine as that was only made to be worn for one day. The only exception was if there was to be a vow renewal years later. Then it dawned on him…he vaguely remembered hearing about his parents’ wedding day. His mother wore her best dress for the occasion and continued to wear it until it fell apart. In all likelihood, Mrs. French had done the same.

Gold frowned. None of that was sitting well with him. Belle had refused a big wedding in New York and requested that no one but family and close friends be present for the ceremony. She didn’t want jewels or baubles…the woman ought to at least have the dress she had her heart set on. If the engagement fell through, then though it would be strange, she could hold onto the dress and save it for the day she married the right man.

“Belle,” He began, touching her shoulder. “If this is the one you want, I want you to have it.”

Belle’s wide eyes were a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. Her breathing seemed to become a little labored, as her chest rose and fell.

“That is the privilege brides have these days.” The owner of the shop chimed in, joining them on the other side of the counter. “Might I say, dear, that you and your fiancé make a handsome couple?” The woman was all smiles, her eyes shining.

Gold couldn’t stop his mouth from swinging open. _She thinks Belle and I are engaged!_ Nothing would have made him happier than to have Belle as his bride, wearing the dress they both loved, walking down the aisle to him. For her to be his wife and spend a lifetime together. He hadn’t been hiding his feelings very well if a perfect stranger was about to detect them. The lady couldn’t have been the only one to have noticed. Mr. French certainly picked up on the fact that he was in love…

 _Oh God, I think I’m falling in love with Belle French._ Gold wasn’t sure how he could have allowed that to happen, but he couldn’t deny it. Of all the people to fall for, he had to fall in love with his son’s fiancée. A woman he had known all of a week and a half, but had lost his heart to almost from the first moment he clamped eyes on her. He had lectured Neal about engaging himself to a woman he had known for a month, which made him the world’s worst hypocrite.

Belle was swift to correct the woman. A little too swift. “Mr. Gold is my future father-in-law.” She insisted.

“Oh? My apologies.” The woman was perplexed and her gaze darted from him to Belle and back again. Bringing her hand to her cheek, she retreated from the counter. “Pardon me for a moment.”

“That was odd.” Belle managed a sheepish smile.

“Indeed.” Gold concurred and froze when he realized that Mrs. French was gaping at him.

He had forgotten that Mrs. French was even there, she had been so quiet the last few minutes. Or so he thought. Whenever he was with Belle, everyone else more or less faded into the background. Mrs. French’s stunned expression said it all. _You are in love with my daughter!_

 _I am and I don’t know what to do about it!_ He winced. What could he do, other than pray that this would be a passing fancy. He had fallen hard before, twice in fact, and both love affairs burned passionately until he got burned. The only difference now was that he knew in his heart of hearts, that one did not get over Belle French.

Gold tore his gaze from Mrs. French and motioned to the booklet. “Well, what is the verdict?”

Belle studied the dress once more and nodded. “I love this one.”

“You’ll look beautiful.” Mrs. French drew Belle into a side hug and kissed her daughter’s cheek.

However, Gold could still feel Mrs. French’s accusatory glare boring into the back of his head after they placed the order and left the shop.

#

Gold listened, amused as Belle gave him the peculiar history of Storybrooke. The town that was originally founded by a woman mayor in the 1780s, which was ironic because women had so few rights in those days. Even now in the majority of states, including Maine, women still couldn’t vote in elections. But due to their founding mother, the women of Storybrooke were fervently involved in the suffrage movement.

By her warm tone, he could tell that Belle dearly loved Storybrooke. Though it wasn’t a wise notion for him to spend more time in Belle’s company, considering his feelings for her, he couldn’t resist. _I’m a glutton for punishment._ He invited her merely on the pretense of having a proper tour of her town. Her parents didn’t object; however, he did receive twin befuddled looks from both of them. Considering that Belle loathed him, he expected her to refuse, but she agreed.

Storybrooke was small, compact. If you didn’t know it was there and you’d blink, you’d miss it entirely. But it was wholesome, like something out of a fairytale. It was the kind of place one would settle down to have a family. A place to call home.

They had turned a corner and were back on Main Street when Gold observed, “This is a quaint, but nice town.”

Belle snorted and heaved a roll of her eyes. “That is high praise coming from you.” She teased playfully.

Gold loved it that she argued and teased him. No one in his acquaintance did that. He was someone to be feared and despised. But this slip of a woman could put him in his place and he could respect the hell out of that.

Belle tilted her head and giving him a sideways glance, she queried, “Why do you and Neal have different surnames?”

The question was unexpected, though he didn’t know why it should be. Belle had an inquisitive mind that was bursting with questions. He was more surprised that she had waited this long to broach the subject, and that Neal had not been the one to explain it to her. He was the fiancé after all.

Gold slowed his pace and frantically searched the street. It was empty, save for a few townsfolk on their errands. The story was not one to discuss out in the open, especially in a town like this. Nor was it a story that a future father-in-law told a future daughter-in-law. But he wanted her to know, God help him, he wanted her to know everything. There would be no secrets between them.

“Miss French, you would do better to ask Neal that.” Gold recoiled from her, unwilling to touch her again until she had the whole ugly truth.

Belle pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips. “Neal is not here, as you are well aware of. And I think I would rather hear the story from you.”

Gold exhaled and wished they were back at the boarding house, in the privacy of the parlor. Where no one would overhear them. Out in the open, there was a chance for someone to overhear and for rumors to spread. Small towns such as Storybrooke thrived on gossip.

“Very well.” He acquiesced.

Belle offered him her hand and led him to the front steps of the library. She sank down on one of them and patted the empty spot for him to join her.

Gold took his place next to her and folded his hands in his lap. “I was born raised in the slums of Glasgow. When I was fifteen I ran away to London to make my fortune. I was working during the day and studying at night; I wanted to open my own business. A textile business.” There was more to his youth than that, but that was a story for another time. This was about his relationship with Neal and all that entailed. “When I was twenty I met a young woman. Milah. And well...”

He faltered for the right words. The last thing he wanted to do was mortify her maiden ears. Storybrooke was an old-fashioned town, where people met, married and had children. And it happened in that order. Their lives revolved around their families and church. Out of wedlock children were ostracized from society.

“There was to be a child?” Belle put in, staring at him with rapt attention.

Gold nodded, relieved when he detected no condemnation from her. He couldn’t bare it if she had been disgusted by him or Neal. “There was, but I didn’t know about it. Her parents sent her to the countryside. She just disappeared, no explanation.” He fluttered his fingers, as if to banish Milah from the story. “Nineteen years later I was living in New York and I had achieved all of my ambitions. Neal tracked me down and told me who he was. Milah had died. On her deathbed, she finally confessed the whole truth to him.”

He glanced down when he felt Belle’s hand slide into his and give him a tender squeeze. She blessed him with an encouraging smile. Her compassion made his eyes sting with tears.

Gold continued, knowing if he waited too long, his emotion would overpower him and the story would never be told. “If I had known that Milah was with child, I swear I would have married her and done right by Neal. He wouldn’t have been without a father for nineteen years and I wouldn’t have been without my son. Now I am trying to make up for lost time, but I often fear it is too late.”

Then there was the matter that, as he had confided in the French’s, he knew nothing about fatherhood and worried constantly that he would hurt Neal somehow. His concerns made him act irrational at times; he wanted to do his best to ensure his boy’s happiness and safety. And Neal’s love.

Belle cradled his hand, stroking the top of it. “Thank you for telling me.” She blinked rapidly, but he could see a tear drop clinging to one of her lashes. “Mr. Gold, trust me, it is never too late. Neal loves you.”

Gold nodded and sniffed. “Still... all those years.” He rasped.

Belle scooted closer and drew him into her warm embrace.

Gold rested his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes. There was no better place to be in the world than in her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://bookwormchocaholic.tumblr.com/post/160295678934/love-and-marriage-chapter-6


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Gold continue to spend time together; Gold calls his son; Belle speaks to Ruby about a problem.

 

 

 

Belle stole a sideways glance at the man by her side and tightened her grasp on his forearm, closing the small gap between them. Following the supper meal that they had shared with her parents, Mr. Gold invited her out for an evening stroll. And she had eagerly accepted.

They soon fell into a leisurely pace, basking in what was left of the sun that was dissolving into a pinkish sky. Her shawl protected her from the chill off the sea, along with the fact that he was standing in such close proximity that he protected her from the gusts.

“Your father doesn’t seem to hate me as much as he did in the beginning.” Mr. Gold commented off-handedly once they made it across the intersection of Main Street and Elm.

“I think the cakes are doing the trick.” Belle couldn’t hide her merriment. The last few times Mr. Gold had joined them for supper, he had brought a different cake with him each time. Whilst her father was still not fond of Mr. Gold, he had warmed up to the Scotsman considerably. “Just remember, avoid orange cakes.”

“Yes, trust me, I remember!” Mr. Gold snickered, shaking his head.

He had thrown his head back and laughed when he heard the infamous story of the orange cake. Especially the part about the dog. Encouraged by that, she had told him a few other family stories which he seemed to enjoy.

Mr. Gold was not what she had thought he was and she was glad. She had completely misjudged him. Yes, he could be prickly, sharp, and challenging, but that was only his exterior. He had only been trying to protect Neal and she couldn’t fault him for that. He was layered; he was a mystery to be uncovered. And beneath all of his layers lay a good, genuine heart. The more she got to know her future father-in-law…the more she regretted that he was going to be her future father-in-law. Had they met first, in a different way, perhaps an attachment could have formed between them. Mr. Gold was older, but that was one of the things that she liked best about him.

He was not a boy, he was a man. Intelligent, articulate, strong, handsome, thoughtful…

Belle gripped the corner of her shawl and dug her fingers into the old, faded material. I should be thinking of such things. Mr. Gold was to be her father-in-law; he deserved her respect. He would think less of her for making moon eyes at him. _Neal is my fiancé, I should be thinking of him._ Neal had been gone a week already and she ought to be missing him, but truth be told, she hardly had given him a second thought. No, it was Mr. Gold who occupied all of her thoughts, which ranged from chaste to sordid.

“The way to my father’s heart is through his stomach.” Belle said, wistfully, thinking of better times. Her father used to have such a hearty appetite and now – except for his cakes – he picked at his food. “He and mother’s courtship began when he bought her picnic basket in a church raffle.”

Mr. Gold halted abruptly and claiming her hand, he met her gaze. His amber depths drew her in; she could drown in them if she let herself. “Belle, how did he survive the heart attack?”

Belle drew in a sharp, lungful of air. She hated talking about that day, but felt at ease enough to share that dark memory with him. “Dr. Whale said it was in the Hands of Providence. My father was a carpenter and he collapsed while he was out in his workshop. When he didn’t come in for dinner, Mother went into check on him and found him unconscious.” She blinked but couldn’t hold back her tears. A couple trickled down her cheek. “I was laying things out on the table when I heard her scream.” The image of her father, sprawled out on the workshop floor, helpless as a child, was seared into her brain. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t dispel that memory. It was something that would stay with her forever. “We thought we were going to lose him, but he held on. And he’s still holding on.”

Mr. Gold nodded and lifting his hand, he brushed his knuckles against her wet chin. “Well, a man couldn't have a better incentive. Mr. French has you and your mother to live for.”

Mr. Gold couldn’t have been more than a foot from her. She’d give anything to close the gap between them, to throw herself into his arms and kiss him. Not just a simple kiss, but one of those where you would seal your lip’s over your lover’s and search out his inner most secrets. To learn what he liked and what gave him pleasure. Not that she would know what to do necessarily, but she would be willing to learn. A man of his experience would have much to show her.

Belle recoiled, conflicted by her own inner turmoil. A single touch from him would be her undoing and though it was wrong, she craved it. Yet she was no fool; men in upper class New York who were not married often had mistresses and dalliances with married women. Much as she liked Mr. Gold, she knew that he was no exception. When she first met Mr. Gold, she had been convinced that he would have made a terrible husband. But the more she got to know him, the more she realized that any lady would be lucky to have him as her husband.

“Why did you never marry?” Belle questioned, locking eyes with him. She would know if he lied to her. Not that she wanted to hear about his conquests, but she wanted to know the absolute truth. It was bold of her to inquire about such intimate matters, particularly that of her future father-in-law. Such a query would have better posed to Neal.

Mr. Gold’s cheek grew ashen. “I - well... I-” He stammered and the rims of his pixie shaped ears reddened. “I never found any lady I liked well enough to wed. There was Neal’s mother. And then-” He withdrew from her and fumbled for the pocket watch in his vest pocket. The Scotsman flicked it open and closed it a second later, not even casting a glance at the time. She deduced that it was a nervous tic of his. “I was involved with a woman and it was more for companionship than anything. Didn’t end well. But that was years ago.”

Belle studied him and figured that he was being honest. He would have come up with a better tale if he had wanted to. But Mr. Gold did seem genuinely remorseful for his past. At the very least he was uncomfortable talking about it.

Regaining some of his composure, he cocked his head to the side. “What about you?” Mr. Gold asked, turning the tables on her. “I mean, you must have had scores of suitors.”

“Hardly scores.” Belle waved him off and decided not to mention how awkward and ugly she was as a school girl. She had vastly improved in the last few years, proving to her that some people were better looking older than they were younger. “There was someone. His name was Will and we grew up together. Everyone expected us to marry, which was precisely the reason I refused to walk out with him.”

That had been her only other offer of marriage, which she received the day after she graduated high school. In hindsight, it probably had been rash to refuse him. Had she accepted, she and her parents would have been provided for. But she had known Will forever and he was more like a brother than a lover.

And now, at twenty-five and practically a spinster in the eyes of Storybrooke, she was lucky to have received another proposal. Which is why she hung onto it for dear life. Unlike other women or the society girls in New York, she did not have the luxury of picking and choosing suitors. Neal Cassidy was it.

“I don’t like to be told what to do.” Belle informed him with a firm nod, knowing good and well that she would be teased for saying that.

Mr. Gold lifted one of his brows and smirking, he quipped, “Yes, I noticed. You should consider having the word ‘obey’ stricken from your wedding vows. We don’t want to risk the Almighty smiting you for lying in a church.”

Belle gave him a playful swat on the shoulder. “Hush!”

Her gaze flittered to his mouth, thinking that Mr. Gold possibly had the softest pair of lips that she had ever seen. If only she could test his mouth out to make sure.

Belle swallowed and breaking away, she headed back for the house. Not that she wanted their spirited banter to come to an end. But she was enjoying it too much.

Egads, I think I’m a little bit in love with Mr. Gold! She closed her eyes in shame.

#

Gold entered the shop and surveyed the room. Other than the proprietor behind the counter, and two men playing checkers in the corner, the shop was quiet. He moved towards the telephone that had been mounted on the wall and chuckled at the operator’s gasp when he requested her to connect him to his house in New York. He would have rather had a private conversation with Neal at the boarding house, but Mrs. Lucas did not have her own telephone. The store’s communal one would have to do.

Putting the receiver to his ear, he leaned into the mouth peace. Gold heard a click and cheered at the sound of his son’s throaty greeting.

“Neal, hello. How are things there?” Gold shifted to offer himself some privacy from the others in the shop. He had to speak louder into the telephone, to make himself clear for Neal, so the others would likely hear most of the conversation too.

Perhaps I can have a telephone installed at the French’s. He considered then immediately dismissed that idea. Knowing Mr. French, the man would not allow him to do that. He would be mortifying the man’s pride again.

“Good how about you?” Neal hadn’t sounded this lighthearted in an age. New York was doing him some good. For some the sea side was a tonic whereas for others the big city worked wonders. “Oh, and Belle, how is she?”

“Fine.” Gold winced, wondering at his boy. The way the young man spoke, Belle was merely an afterthought. “We have called a truce. You were right, son. Belle’s a remarkable woman.”

He hoped his infatuation with Belle wasn’t too evident, at least not to Neal. Mr. French knew right off hand and though he had softened in the last week, every now and then he would get a look in his eye that made Gold feel uneasy. The woman who was making the wedding dress noticed right away and had mistaken them for a couple. And now Mrs. French knew and probably spoke about it at length with her husband. Thankfully, if the town of Storybrooke were aware of it, word had not spread too far. The only ones in the dark were Belle and Neal, and Gold intended it to stay that way forever.

Neither need never know of my lecherous thoughts. Gold reminded himself that he would have to reign in his enthusiasm whenever he discussed Belle.

“Everything is right on schedule and she was right about having a smaller wedding here in Storybrooke.” Gold braced his open palm against the wall and leaned in further. He didn’t want the bride’s plans to become public, especially when the French’s were a quiet set of people. “All of her friends are here and she doesn’t know anyone in New York yet. Well, I am sure you know that of course.”

He was met with silence and wondered if he had said something wrong. I thought I was doing better. Since he had begun spending time with Belle and her family, his temper was better and he hadn’t been drinking as much. The fresh air was helping him sleep better, and his nights were full of dreams of a chestnut-haired beauty that set his pulse racing. There were moments that Storybrooke’s idyllic setting made him feel as though he were at home. The longer he was in Maine, the less he missed New York City and wondered what had captivated him about it to begin with.

“Belle and I haven’t spoken since I left.” Neal responded.

Gold frowned. How could he not speak to Belle? _Were I her fiancé, I wouldn’t be able to go a whole day without talking to her._ Hell, he couldn’t do it now and he was merely the future father-in-law. God only knew what he’d do if he were Belle’s fiancé. Of course, if he had been the fiancé, there was no way in hell he’d allow himself to be talked out of leaving Belle.

Gold ignored his misgivings and continued, “Really? Neither of you have telephoned? Don’t worry about the cost, son, that’s of little importance.”

Money was no object and he half-expected Neal to jump at the chance to speak to Belle as soon as possible. Again, his son was oddly quiet. _He doesn’t miss Belle._ It dawned on him. _Not the way he should._ He had to admit though, that Belle had not mentioned Neal either since he left. I know very little of love, but I do know that young people in love are impetuous and passionate. Gold hated to think of Milah, but his youthful passions with her was proof enough of what could happen when two young people were in love.

Gold held his tongue about that. “Have you selected a ring yet?” He had thought talking of the ring would be simple enough, but once more his son was struck dumb. “Neal?” He prompted.

“No.” was Neal’s strained reply.

Gold sighed and raked his hand through his shaggy crop. “Are you having second thoughts, son?” He asked.

If Neal were having second thoughts, this charade should be nipped in the bud. Neal could be on his way and Belle…Belle would be free. Not that she would ever have you. His conscience hissed at him. Belle would blame him for meddling in her plans and she would be right. He was meddling and she wouldn’t be able to forgive him for that. No, Belle would never want him. She might not know it, but she could have anyone her heart desired. An embittered, old Scotsman wouldn’t do for her at all.

“Papa, you said you no longer opposed this match.” Neal exhaled loudly.

“I don’t.” Gold said quickly, and wondered if he was trying to convince Neal, or convinced himself. Wetting his chapped lips, he remembered his mother’s ring that he stored in his nightstand. “We have our family ring. Go to the nightstand by my bedside and my mother’s ring is in there. Belle is romantic and sentimental. She would love it.”

He could well imagine how her large blue depths would fill with happy tears when the ring was presented to her. Nothing would please her more and it would make her feel part of the Gold family. If only I could be the one giving it to her. Pressing his fist to his stomach to massage a cramp that was forming there, he suddenly hated the idea of Neal giving the ring to Belle. But it was too late now to stop it.

“I have to go now, Papa. I love you.” Neal replied.

Gold’s heart twisted. Painful as it was for the woman he adored to be marrying his son, if this is what she wanted and what his son wanted, then he wouldn’t stand in their way. In his heart of hearts, he felt that they were mismatched and they’d rue the day they married, but what did he know of love. Two failed relationships and fifteen years of voluntary celibacy, he had no right to judge.

“I love you too.” Gold put his hand back on the wall for support, otherwise he might collapse. He loved hearing his boy say those words, but he felt that his son was less than enthusiastic when he said it. “But remember, be sure to bring back the ring with you when you come home.” Gritting his teeth, he corrected himself, “I mean, return to Storybrooke.”

Gold waited for his son to agree and was disheartened when he heard a “pop” on the other end of the line.

Neal had hung up.

Gold hung the earpiece back up and let his shoulders fall.

One more week with Belle, that was all he had left before Neal came back to Storybrooke. He had better enjoy it while it lasted, because once Neal returned, he would have to back off.

#

Belle rapped on the front door of the boarding house and was about to knock again when Ruby answered. A wolfish smile spread itself across her friend’s face. Her eyes twinkled, piquing Belle’s interest. I wonder what has Ruby so giddy. She observed her friend and noted the blush blooming on Ruby’s cheeks. Perhaps she finally decided which suitor she liked best.

“Mr. Gold is out now, but he should be back directly.” Ruby informed her, her singsong voice grating on Belle’s nerves.

Belle cringed. When had Ruby detected my interest in Mr. Gold? She hoped to God that others hadn’t, then remembered the seamstress who was working on her wedding dress. The woman had mistaken them for a couple. At least Mr. Gold was still blissfully unaware of her feelings. He only viewed her as his future daughter-in-law and a possible friend.

  
Ruby wriggled her finger and Belle followed her into the parlor. The room looked decent, though not as clean as when she had worked there. But Mr. Gold had been right; the Lucas’ hadn’t needed her to work for them. She knew she should feel relieved and though her parents and the upcoming wedding occupied much of her time, she missed going out every day to work. Once she moved to New York, she would have social obligations, but she had the feeling that wouldn’t be the same.

Belle took a seat on the sofa and folded her hands in her lap. “Are you and Granny doing well?” she asked, feigning a nonchalant smile.

“We’re fine.” Ruby perched on the other end of the sofa and gave her a knowing look. “What is it?”

Belle’s heart sank. She should have known that she couldn’t fool Ruby. “I think I may have feelings for someone other than Neal.” She admitted.

“Really? Do tell.” Ruby scooted closer and inclined her head towards Belle.

Belle wished that she could feel as excited Ruby was. But what she was about to confide in her friend was disgraceful. There couldn’t have been a worse situation to be in. To engage herself to a man she didn’t love in order to provide for herself and her parents, and then fall in love with that man’s father. There was nowhere else for her to turn to. No book that featured characters in her predicament, no story or tale that could give her guidance.

“It’s Mr. Gold.” Belle said.

“Neal’s father, hmm? I thought you loathed him.” Ruby giggled, unaware of the gravity of her situation. Thankfully it took her friend only a few seconds to fully comprehend it all. Her eyes rounded in horror as she brought her hand to her brow. “Oh, what am I saying? Belle, that’s Neal’s father!”

“I know, I know!” Belle lamented, lowering her head. “So, what do I do?”

“How am I supposed to know? I was never smitten with a beau’s father.” Ruby reached over and grabbed Belle’s hand, giving it a compassionate squeeze. “Belle, this has gone on long enough. You and Neal are living a lie and that is not fair to either one of you. You must end the engagement.”

Belle shook her head. “I can’t. Ruby, my parents’ futures are secure now. Besides, I gave Neal my word.”

She didn’t need condemnation; she already knew she was doing something foolish. What she needed now was her best friend to tell her that it would be all right and that she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Even though you are.

It was wrong to use Neal like this, but he was aware of her motives. He more or less had given his blessing. She could have gone through with it all with only minimal guilt, but now that she had fallen for Mr. Gold, to betray her feelings and conscience had begun to weigh down on her. Gold would be in her life from now on, but she didn’t know if that could be enough for her. To have him so close yet unable to be with him, or touch him, or be free to love him.

“But what if Mr. Gold reciprocates your feelings? He would take care of your parents in a heartbeat. That man will do anything for those he loves.” Ruby reminded her, giving Belle’s fingers one last squeeze. “I think you ought to tell Mr. Gold how you feel and let him take it from there.”

Belle wished it could be that easy. To sit Neal down and break things off and have him understand. But the preparations had been put into motion, the invitations had gone out, the honeymoon tour in New York had been arranged. She could not cancel it, not after all the work they had put into it, and then approach Mr. Gold and confess her feelings for him. He wouldn’t believe her. He had only begun to trust her; if she professed to be in love with him, he would think that it was a mere ploy.

He would hate her and she didn’t know if she could handle that.

Belle drew back her hand and slumped against the lumpy cushions of the sofa. “So, throw Neal over in favor of his father and act as though all is right in the world?” She hugged herself and wailed, “Ruby, everyone knows!”

Ruby’s enthusiasm waned and she too sank against the back of the sofa. “Oh. That wouldn’t work either, I guess.” She conceded, her mouth drawing into a pout. “Perhaps you are merely having cold feet. There have been a great many changes as of late.” She suggested.

“Perhaps.” Belle nodded reluctantly, saddened that her friend could not come up with another solution.

She had hoped that she overlooked something, anything. But the truth was, there was no way out of the mess she had created.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://bookwormchocaholic.tumblr.com/post/161052407419/love-and-marriage-chapter-7


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal returns; Mr. and Mrs. French learn something

Belle wished that she were with Mr. Gold. She could pretend that she was soaring. All she would have to do was close her eyes and spread out her arms, and she would feel like a bird. Or like one of those airplanes. She could sing, “Come Josephine in my Flying Machine,” and have a good laugh.

Instead, she was with Neal and he was driving much too fast. He cranked the steering wheel and crammed his foot down on the accelerator, whipping them around with sharp turns and manic-like speed. She clung to the cushion of the passenger seat, for fear of losing her balance and end up on the floorboard of the car.

Neal’s eyes were fixated on the road and were Belle to guess, she would say that her fiancé was running away from something. Perhaps even her, despite the fact that she was sitting next to him. He had promised that he would stay in New York for two weeks at the most. He had been gone for four and she hadn’t heard a word from him. Not that she could complain, she hadn’t written or tried to telephone, but she could claim that wedding preparations had demanded her attention.

Never mind that it was her enigmatic soon-to-be father-in-law that had captured her fancy.

Neal eased off the accelerator and stopped the Silver Ghost a couple feet beyond the town line. His breathing was labored, he exhaled loud, ragged pants.

Belle laid a hand on his shoulder and immediately removed it when he shirked. “Are you all right? You hardly said two words during supper.”

Neal had shown up on her door step mid-afternoon, to the astonishment of all, including his father. Not that he wasn’t welcome, but they hadn’t been expecting him. They had all made several attempts at conversation, but not even his father could draw more than one-syllable responses from him.

She had tried to play the part, as the concerned fiancée and dote on him, however she gave up midway through because it was too strange. Making over her fiancé, the son of the man she truly loved, with said man in the room. The perfect hostess, her mother took charge of the situation and entertained them all.

 _I ought to be happy to see my fiancé._ But she wasn’t. Rather than that, she mourned the fact that she and Gold could no longer spend time together. Her time with him had been precious.

Neal’s grip on the steering wheel loosened and he withdrew a tiny square shaped box. He lifted the lid on it and held it out to her. “I have this ring for you. It’s the only bit of finery my grandmother had, the only heirloom that my father can pass on. Papa thought that you would appreciate it.”

Belle’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Mr. Gold. Particularly that Mr. Gold had been the one who suggested for her to have a priceless Gold family treasure. The ring was small, the little diamond diminutive, but she could feel all of the love and devotion from it. Her only regret was that Mr. Gold was not the one presenting it to her, or professing his love to her. Mr. Gold would never do such a thing; no matter how much she might wish it.

Belle waited for Neal to take it out and put it on her. Then understood that she would be waiting an eternity for him to do that. She plucked it out of the box and slid it on the third finger of her left hand. The tiny band fit perfectly, as though it were made for her.

“Beautiful. Thank you, Neal.” Belle plastered a smile on her face and unsure of where to put her hands, she dropped them in her lap. “How is business?”

“Good.” Neal didn’t elaborate any further and drummed his fingers on the rim of the open window. “How did things go with my father?”

“Wonderful. We get on so well with each other.” Belle let out an unladylike snort, recalling how much fun she and Mr. Gold had had over the last few weeks. “The other evening, we were in stitches over ‘Pride and Prejudice.’ We were reading it aloud and your father started using this really strange, giggly voice for Mr. Collins.”

She would not have expected that the straight-laced, reserved, brusque Mr. Gold could conjure up such silliness. He wouldn’t stop and had her laughing so hard that she ended up crying. It was almost like he was showing off, for her benefit. Peculiar as it was, she found it strangely attractive.

“Never read it.” Neal muttered.

“Really? It’s a romance, but also a comedy of manners-”

“Not really a reader, Belle.” Neal said abruptly, then fixed his gaze on the wooded thicket to his left.

Belle winced, hating herself for embarrassing him. Her fiancé had had an indifferent education, even by a small town’s standards. The gaps in his knowledge of literature and art and politics were wide indeed. But he was young yet and she could help him improve. He could change.

It shouldn’t be like that though. Belle exhaled a lengthy breath. She shouldn’t want to change her fiancé. Neal was who he was and she ought to appreciate him for that. She could not make him into Mr. Gold, no matter how hard she tried.

“Neal, I’m sorry-”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” Neal returned his gaze to her, looking sheepish. “I’m glad to hear that my two favorite people in the world like each other. You would love his library; its eccentrically large.”

“As all libraries should be.” Belle gave a lighthearted chuckle and proposed. “We will have to have one.”

“If you to.” Neal shrugged indifferently.

Belle wrapped her arms around herself. She wasn’t cold; it was summer time and even the evenings could bake you alive. Never before had she actually considered what married life would be like for her and Neal. She had only ever thought of her parents’ comfort and how they would never have to worry again.

But living and working with Neal, side by side. The conversations they would have, the decisions they would make…the bed they would share. She never really thought about. When she fantasized about Gold, life with him made sense. They’d work together, they’d talk, they’d go out and do things, they’d bicker and fuss, then they’d make up in bed later.

But with Neal, she couldn’t envision any of that.

#

Gold’s forefinger and thumb clenched around the curved handle of the tea cup. Lifting it to his lips, he drank the no-longer hot brew and lowed the cup once more. He’d rather pitch it across the room and crush the remnants into dust.

He slumped further into the flattened cushion of the sofa and listened to Mr. and Mrs. French talk, stewing over the fact that he had to be trapped with them rather than out with Belle. Neal had come back to Storybrooke unexpectedly and after a short visit and quiet meal, he and Belle took off in his Silver Ghost.

Neal and Belle were young and engaged and they should be together. _I’m just the lecherous old bastard who lusts after her._ More than lusted, Gold reminded himself. He dearly loved Belle and want to spend the rest of his life with her. His devotion to her was so intense that he resented his own son for living out his own dream. _I’m horrible; I’m jealous of my own boy._

Gritting his back teeth, his head snapped up when Mrs. French lightly cleared her throat.

“Not to worry, Mr. Gold. Storybrooke and its outskirts are perfectly safe. Neither Belle or Neal will come to any harm.” The woman smiled sweetly, unaware that he had no such worries. That his dour expression was from disappointment. “Is New York a safe place?”

Gold laid his cup down on the coffee table. “Well, certain areas are. We will be sure to show you the better sections.” He made a mental note to write down the places that were for respectable people. He would never forgive himself if Belle or her parents ended up in a shady area and travesty befell them. “Speaking of which, do you intend to sell this house when you move?”

Mr. French’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. “Move? Why would we move?” He dropped his fork on the plate, abandoning his half-eaten piece of cake. “Who said we would move?”

“Belle said something to the effect that you would move to New York after the wedding.” Gold racked his brain, but he could not recall her precise words. But in one of the many talks, Belle informed him that her parents would be joining her in New York after the wedding. “To live with her in Neal's house.”

“We are not moving to New York.” Mr. French practically snarled and wriggled in his seat, agitated by what was clearly news to him. “No offense to your city, but I went there once, a long time ago. Once was enough. The air was so dirty, I could barely breathe.” He scrunched his pug nose.

Gold stared blankly at the man, unable to form an immediate response. He knew he wasn’t wrong. Belle had told him that her parents would live with her in New York. She had mentioned all of the things her mother could do there and the doctors that could review her father’s condition.

Mrs. French rose from her place on the arm of her husband’s chair and put her plate down on the coffee table. To smooth over her husband’s insults to New York, she said, “We are not big city people, Mr. Gold. We would be lost there, you understand. Now we may visit occasionally.” She tilted her head in consideration.

“Humph.” Mr. French grunted and sneered. “Don’t see how I’ll be able to manage that.”

Gold rubbed his chin, uncertain as to what to make of all of that. Hadn’t the French family discussed their plans for the future? Not that he knew much about family, but he figured that they held meetings and talked about big decisions. However, Belle was operating under one assumption while her parents were operating under another.

Mrs. French swapped a look with her husband and then addressed Gold once more. “I have heard it said many times that New York is a fine place to visit, but not so much to live. We are happy here in Storybrooke.” She chewed on her lower lip, much like her daughter did when she was apprehensive. “Do you understand?”

Gold closed his eyes and massaged the lids. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit. When he first met Belle, he wondered why she wanted to marry his son when it was obvious that she did not love Neal. He had thought that she wanted a wealthy husband, connections, as well as her share of high society. However, she had turned away all of his attempts to provide her with a fashionable wedding, opting to have a small church wedding in her home town. He had lost focus of his initial intent and had become entranced by Belle. And he no longer gave a single thought to why she was doing what she was doing. Spending time in her company, he had fallen for her and no longer thought badly of her.

Opening his eyes, he finally understood. And he wondered why he hadn’t figured it out before, since it had been under his nose all along. Only love could have blinded him.

Belle was marrying Neal to provide for her parents. This was all for them. She adored her parents and would do anything to ensure their comfort. If only she had told me! Had she confided in him, he would have proposed to her in a heartbeat. She didn’t love him, but she didn’t love Neal either. _I would have done my utmost to make her happy though._ But it was too late now. This is what Belle and Neal wanted.

“Aye, I believe I do.” Gold blinked, fighting the sting in his eyes. “However, I’m not certain your daughter does.” He muttered.

Raising his eyes to Mr. French, Gold wished he could dig a hole and drop in. The plump man was eyeing his every move, not at all fooled.

“We will speak to her.” Mr. French declared.

Gold bit down on his tongue, praying he did not just cause dissension within the French family. The French’s were a nice family and he didn’t want to spoil anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://bookwormchocaholic.tumblr.com/post/161318835309/love-and-marriage-chapter-8


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend of Neal's shows up in Storybrooke; Belle and her parents have a talk.

 

Belle disembarked from the Silver Ghost and took Neal’s arm. She loosely clung to it as he led her towards the church building. His touch was nothing like his father’s. Mr. Gold’s presence radiated strength and power. Whenever she was with him, she felt safe and at home.

  
They were to meet with Rev. Dr. Hopper to review what they wanted for the ceremony and receive a little advice in regards to the marital state. Her chest tightened with each step and she nearly cried out her thanks when she heard a young, feminine voice call out to her fiancé.

“Neal?”

Both Belle and Neal swung around. A tall, slender blonde woman rushed over and Belle thought for a moment that the woman might throw herself into Neal’s arms. She stopped short, panting her breath from her harried pace.

Belle took in the woman’s attire. She was adorned in the sort of white tea dresses that the ladies from New York wore and her golden tresses were drawn up into a fashionable French twist. Her skin was like creamy silk, never having been tarnished by the sun. She had the fair sort of beauty that most preferred.

 _The kind of beauty that I will never have._ Belle frowned bitterly. Recoiling from Neal, she wrapped her arms around her waist. She shifted and looked at her fiancé.  
Neal was slack jawed at this woman’s sudden arrive. Possessing a darker complexion, he paled and beads of sweat dotted his hairline.

“Neal…Hello.” The lady exhaled, her eyes rounded in amazement.

“Hello.” Neal’s Adam’s apple pulsated when he swallowed. “What are you doing here?”

“My family and I are having a holiday here.” The edges of her mouth twitched, but the smile was sheepish.

Belle glared at Neal for an introduction and was annoyed when it dawned on her that he had forgotten that she was even there. Neal was lost in this woman’s gaze. They had a history, they were more than simply society friends.

Slyly, Belle raised her foot and dug the heel of her boot into the side of Neal’s foot.

He slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle a yelp and immediately gestured to Belle. “My apologies, this is my fiancée, Belle French. Belle, this is Emma Nolan.”

The way he softly intoned her name, Emma Nolan, Belle knew that Emma was the one he loved. His true love. He had told her so weeks before.

 _But I am his fiancée._ Belle reminded herself, lifting her chin proudly. After all, Neal had proposed to her; she was wearing the Gold family ring; Neal had promised to marry her. Everything will be all right. Everything had to be all right; her parents’ well-being was staked on it.

Belle greeted Emma with a polite nod. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand and primly shook the blond woman’s. “How do you know one another?”

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but Neal beat her to it, his tone taking on a more hardened edge. He sounded more like his father. “We met through mutual friends. It is good to see you, Emma.” He boldly claimed one of Belle’s hands and held onto it tightly. “Belle and I have an appointment with the reverend.”

The glimmer of happiness died in Emma’s eyes and her grin soon faded. “Oh, of course. Sorry.” She retreated slowly, bobbing her head in agreement. “Perhaps the three of us can go for a soda sometime. If you have those here.” Emma turned around and fled.

Belle knew she should view Emma as a rival, especially since the woman had a claim on Neal’s affections. It was no wonder that Neal’s involvement in their engagement and wedding preparations was lukewarm. His heart still belonged to Emma. The second he set eyes on her, he saw her alone. Had Emma snapped her fingers, he likely would have jumped for her.

But God help her, for whatever reason, Belle felt sorry for her.

Emma Nolan had made the biggest mistake of her life by rejecting Neal in favor of her parents’ preferred suitor. Now she had to come to terms with the fact that Neal was marrying someone else.

It’s not an easy feat. Belle thought. Her own situation was a little reversed. She was marrying someone she didn’t love for the sake of her parents. The one she did love only viewed her as a friend and would end up hating her if she broke the engagement and set her cap at him.

Belle’s gaze dropped to her hand, which was tucked inside of Neal’s clammy grasp. I don’t feel anything, other than friendship. With Mr. Gold, it was different; she felt a tumult of emotions and feelings when he touched her. He ignited something inside of her than Neal never could.

Easing her hand out of his, Belle placed it on his shoulder and gave it an awkward pat. “Neal, is this Emma the one you love?” she asked.

Neal lowered his head, reminding her more of a boy than a man. “Yes. I am trying to stop.” He croaked, shaking his dark head. “Belle, I am committed to you. Nothing has changed, I swear.”

 _I should end this now._ Belle closed her eyes, in hopes of keeping her own tears from falling. They were all miserable. Neal and Emma were in turmoil because they wanted to be together and couldn’t. _I am in turmoil because I love someone else._ Mr. Gold had originally been unhappy when they had announced the engagement, and more or less accepted her and considered her a friend. He’d hate her if she threw his son over, especially after all of the trouble she put them through to make this engagement work. Were she a better or stronger or less selfish person, she would step aside and take the brunt of it all on herself.

But then what would become of her parents?

 _I have to see this through._ Belle opened her eyes and found that Neal was looking at her, as though he were waiting for her to decide how they would proceed.

Belle managed a weak smile. “Neal, I trust you. You have never given me a reason not to.” She assured him.

Neal opened the front door of the church and ushered her inside.

Belle prayed for strength, that she wouldn’t lose her courage.

#

The house was oddly silent when Belle trudged inside. Her parents weren’t noisy per se, but their merry chatter generally filled the rooms. Particularly her father’s. Instead of being engaged in conversation, or sampling a new cake, she found them sitting quietly, their expressions pinched into twin scowls.

“What is it?” Belle felt for the back of the sofa. Was it Father? Did he have an episode? She pressed a fist to her chest, an attempt to suppress the terror mounting within her.

Mother quirked a finger and patted the cushion next to her. “Darling, sit. We need to talk.”

Belle swallowed, sensing that she wasn’t going to like what they were about to tell her. The day had not been going well. Meeting Emma Nolan had been difficult. She’s the woman I will never be. Tall, fair, confident, polished. _And then there’s me._ Small, dark haired, bookish, backwards… The society ladies would destroy her, especially because she was a small-town girl who had ensnared Neal from them.

Then there was the meeting with Rev. Dr. Hopper. The ginger haired man was congenial enough, but he repeatedly hinted that if they “had any doubts – any doubts whatsoever – to not get married.” Because marriage wasn’t easy, it wasn’t how it was in novels, it was work, etc, etc. So on, and so forth, and what have you. She was glad when their meeting came to a close and she was free to leave.

Belle dropped into the cushion and wriggled beneath her parents’ concerned gazes.

Father brought his fist to his mouth and coughed into it. “Belle, it has been drawn to our attention that you are under the impression that after the wedding, your mother and I will move with you to New York.”

“Well, yes.” Belle clutched the flimsy cushion. By reading their expressions, she could tell they were not happy about that. However, she had assumed that their removal to New York was expected. “How else am I to continue to care for you?”

“We will be well enough here. Storybrooke is our home.” Her Mother replied evenly. On closer inspection, Belle could see that her mother’s eyes were red rimmed and her nose pinkened. At some point, she had been weeping. “New York would swallow us whole. Besides, your father and I can take care of ourselves.”

Nothing could have been further from the truth. Father and Mother struggled with only Belle’s help. Were she to abandon them for New York, they would sink further still. Even if they were to accept financial help from her, they would still be on their own in Maine and she couldn’t allow that. She had to have her parents close, not only for their sakes, but for her own. She didn’t know if she could face being in a loveless marriage without her parents’ support.

“You have to come with me!” Belle exhaled, her cheeks puffing out. “I am doing all of this for you!”

Father shook his head. “Are you marrying Neal for our sakes?” He extended his finger and pointed it at her.

“You said that you loved him.” Her Mother chimed in, and then sniffed.

Belle pressed herself against the back of the cushion, wishing that she could disappear. She had done so well as to hiding the real reason of her conquest of Neal. Only Mr. Gold had suspected that she had ulterior motives and had since ceased his opposition. Her parents had truly believed that she loved Neal.

“I care for him.” Belle ground out the words, almost painfully. She had said it to herself so many times that to say it aloud, it sounded false. “We want to marry, we can still have a good union.”

Belle hazard another glance and could have sworn that her father’s eyes were glassy. _Oh, for pity’s sake, I’ve made my father cry!_ She had done her utmost to keep her intentions to herself, knowing that if they became known, they would wound her father’s pride. Other than whittling a few wooden figurines a week, he could no longer financially take care of them.

“My girl, please-” Father’s groan was hoarse.

It was sweet. Her parents didn’t want to see her forfeit true love. True love wasn’t possible for her. Not when the man she loved only thought of her as a friend…and a future daughter-in-law. Since she couldn’t have Mr. Gold, she may as well marry the one who did want her.

“I have made up my mind.” Belle sobered further when she remembered that her father had said that someone had pointed her intentions out to them. “Who told you of my plans? You said someone drew your attention to it.”

“We were talking with Mr. Gold of New York and the subject came up.” Mother replied, unaware of pain her simply answer gave.

“Mr. Gold?” Belle blinked, stunned by her mother’s admission. “I should have known.”

Of course, she had told Mr. Gold that her parents joining her in New York. She had confided in him like she had confided in no other. He was her friend, or so she thought. But it was all a lie. Forging a friendship with her had been all based on a lie. Mr. Gold had been plotting to undermine her marriage all along.

_The man I love still hates me and will stop at nothing to destroy us._

#

Gold bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from shouting at Neal.

Taking a deep breath, he counted to ten and charged across the road and over to the park bench, where he had spotted Neal sitting with Miss Emma Nolan. He should have guessed when Neal was hesitant on the telephone and odd during the latest dinners with the French’s, that he had been keeping company with Emma again.

His boy was gesticulating with his hands, implying that he was upset. Unable to make out Emma’s response, Gold could tell that she was arguing with Neal. In public. For all of Storybrooke to see.

It’s not fair to Belle, that he is sneaking around behind her back. Righteous indignation bubbled up inside of him. If this was how Neal was behaving now, when he was only engaged, he would only be tempted to cavort with Emma during his marriage to Belle. His boy was a good lad, young and headstrong, but youthful passion tended to cloud judgment. _I know that from experience._

Gold stood before Neal and Emma and stared them down. “Neal, Miss Nolan. Having a nice visit? I see Miss French is not with you.”

“Papa!” Neal shot to his feet, wringing his hands.

Emma’s coloring was heightened; the debutant always did love a good row with his son. Gold knew that loved nothing more than to fuss and feud, so it was no surprise when they had fallen for one another. There was a fine line between anger and amore. I should know; Belle and I have something similar.

The young woman rose from the bench and gave a wobbly smile. “I should be going. My parents and I are having supper at the restaurant. Pardon me.” Nodding to Gold, Emma took off before he could get another word in edgewise.

For as long as he had known Emma Nolan, she had a penchant for trouble. Nothing extreme, but the girl constantly was drawn into scrapes. Much like his son. They were designed for each other, if only they could see that. If only they could reconcile. Belle would fret and be disappointed that her plans had failed.

 _But I could pick up the pieces._ He’d do whatever possible to make her happy. He’d find a way to convince her parents to come to New York – if he had to beg, he’d do it – and he’d support them all. She wouldn’t have to love him; her companionship would be enough.

Gold claimed the spot that Emma had abandoned and patted the one next to him. He cast his son a fatherly look that encouraged the boy into joining him.

“This is a small town, you cannot lose yourself here as you can in New York.” Gold clamped a hand down on his son’s broader shoulder and drew him closer. “Word will get back to Belle that you were seen with another woman. A woman that you are clearly still in love with.”

Neal jerked backed, nostrils flared. “Papa, Emma and I were only talking. Nothing more.” He lifted and dropped his shoulders. “Belle will understand.”

His boy hated to be lectured, as though he were some child. Gold remembered being twenty. You thought you knew everything and that no one could teach you anything. You thought you had it all figured out, when in reality you were lost. Gold knew he should hold his tongue, because his son would only rebel if he came down too hard. But he couldn’t allow his son to trample all over Belle’s feelings.

“Belle deserves more consideration from you.” A muscle in Gold’s jaw twitched, causing a dull ache. “You never called her once while you were away. She is your fiancée and she will be your wife. You don’t know how lucky you are to have this beautiful woman in your life!”

“Woman?” Neal muttered and realization must have fully dawned on him, for his eyes bulged. “Papa? You love Belle.”

“What?” Gold recoiled and reconsidered all he had said. Closing his eyes briefly in horror, he cursed himself for being so careless.

The French’s had known of his feelings, as did most of Storybrooke, but somehow Belle and Neal had been unaware. And he had intended to keep it that way.

“You love Belle.” Neal repeated and squeezed the bridge of his nose, massaging that area. “I can’t believe this. Unbelievable.”

Gold noted that Neal sounded more amused than angry, as if this whole mess were one big joke to him. Perhaps his boy was simply as weary as he was of it. Were this to happen to anyone else, Gold would have had a good laugh at the irony.

“You don’t love Belle at all, do you, Neal?” Gold asked directly and leveled his no-nonsense gaze at his boy.

Neal gave a mournful shake of his head. “I don’t. But we are still getting married. I gave her my word and she expects us to marry.” He punctuated he words with a tap of his index finger on his knee. “If I thought for a minute that Belle would reciprocate your feelings, I would step aside.”

“But she doesn’t love me.” Gold concluded, exhaling a breath that he had been holding in.

He had already known that Belle didn’t love him. Yet it pained him to hear it aloud. That the woman he adored had no consideration for him whatsoever.

His eyes watered and he blinked several times. I cannot lose my self-control here. He would have to wait until the evening to lick his wounds.

Neal dropped his head into his hands and shuddered. “I’m sorry, Papa. I ruined everything.”

Gold brought his arms around his son’s shaking shoulders. Despite his own inner turmoil, he couldn’t bear to watch his son in such pain. His son’s happiness was more important than his own. “No, no you didn’t. You are only doing what you think is right and I am so proud of you.” He nudged his boy in the side. “I love you Neal, no matter what.”

“I love you too.” Came Neal’s muffled reply.

Gold wished he could think of a solution, but from his vantage point there was no way around it. Someone was bound to get hurt in the end.

 _No, that’s not true._ Gold released a sigh. _We will all be hurt in the end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://bookwormchocaholic.tumblr.com/post/161616111459/love-and-marriage-chapter-9


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Gold have a confrontation.

 

Belle broke away from yet another guest and took refuge near the refreshment table. She scooped a ladle full of punch and poured it into her cup. Sipping on the cherry flavored drink, she was grateful to have a moment to herself.

This was her and Neal’s engagement party. Rev. Dr. Hopper and the church insisted on celebrating this “momentous occasion” although no one seemed in a festive mood. A banner had been hung from one end of the room to the other, there were sweets and cakes to nibble on, and Granny pounded “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” on the piano off and on throughout the evening. Neal was tucked away in a corner with his father, only speaking when spoken to, his eyes fixated on the door in case he needed to make a quick dash from the sanctuary. Not that she could blame him, she was doing the same thing.

Her parents chose not to come. Mother had hinted that Father needed to reserve his strength for the wedding that would be in three days. And rather than join in the festivities, Mother chose to stay home to keep Father company.

 _Forty._ That was the number of people who had approached her this evening to congratulate her on her engagement, not to mention hugged her, and imparted some bit of wisdom.

The only one who didn’t approach her was Mr. Gold, which both hurt and vexed her. Hurt - that he was avoiding her; he had not been coming to the family dinners and had given up all involvement in the wedding. Supposedly her friend, since Neal had returned to Storybrooke, Mr. Gold had ended his friendship with her. The man she loved no longer thought her worthy of his time and wanted nothing to do with her. Vexed – that he had intentionally meddled in her plans and had been manipulating her all along.

The Scotsman looked devastatingly handsome this evening, which only confused her further. She could be irate with him, but one look at his angular face and soulful eyes, her fury melted away. Only Mr. Gold could stir up such conflicting emotions within her. He was the only person in the world she wanted to yell at, as well as sit in his lap and kiss for all eternity.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, causing her to jump. The touch was familiar to her and briefly she hoped that Mr. Gold had finally sought her out, which would give her the chance to spend time with him and confront him as well.

Her spirits sank and Belle felt guilty for disappointed that it was only Ruby.

Ruby released her shoulder and claimed one of Belle’s hands. “How are you doing, Belle?”

Belle frowned, detecting the pity dripping in her friend’s question. “Good.” She insisted, sliding her fingers out of Ruby’s grasp. “Very good.”

“Really? You don’t seem as happy as you should be.” Ruby arched one of her dark brows, her narrow cheeks puffing out in exasperation. “And this is your engagement party, this is all for you. This is not the path for you. You deserve the best, someone who truly, truly loves you.”

“Ruby!” Belle hissed, glancing around to ensure that no one overheard their conversation. A couple of people were watching, their interest piqued, but they kept their distance. “Lower your voice!” she scolded.

“Belle!” Ruby waved off the other guests, but slyly directed her gaze to the corner where Neal and Mr. Gold were stationed. “This may not be the best time, I should have spoken up earlier, but didn’t want to interfere. Anyway, you really need to sit down and talk to Mr. Gold and tell him how you feel.”

“Stop it!” Belle shouted in a whisper.

Her friend opened her mouth once more, but Belle didn’t give her a chance to continue. Despite Ruby’s good intentions, she didn’t know Mr. Gold and what he was capable of. _She doesn’t know him like I do._

Belle slammed her cup of punch down on the refreshment table and stormed out of the sanctuary. There was a side room, behind the baptistery, that as a girl she often hid away in during church functions so that she could have enough quiet to read a book.

She fled to it, thinking if she had a few minutes to herself, she could regain her composure and be able to survive the rest of the evening.

#

Gold knew he shouldn’t follow Belle. They were in a church, for crying out loud, celebrating her engagement to his son, and here he was still lusting after her. Evidently his darkness knew no bounds.

But she had fled the sanctuary and no one went after her. God help him, he was bound to her.

He slipped out of the room and followed the scent of her lavender perfume, thanking God that the invisible trail wasn’t misleading. He found Belle in a tiny room behind the baptistery, her back against the wall, hugging her midsection.

“Miss French, the fun in the sanctuary.” Gold observed.

Her head snapped up, her eyes aflame and watery. Color rose to her cheeks; her mouth was pursed. He had witnessed her anger a number of times, but she had never been in this state before.

“Your plan failed.” Belle stated.

Gold blinked his confusion. “What?”

Belle stomped over to him and standing right beneath his nose, she jabbed his chest sharply with her extended index finger. “You told my parents of my intentions for them to move with me to New York, to spoil everything. I thought you accepted me.”

_Ah, she thinks I betrayed her._

Gold’s gaze was drawn to her trembling lips, momentarily distracted by how he longed to have a taste…Swallowing, he responded, “This is not about acceptance. I would never hurt you, Belle.”

He’d rather lop off his leg or arm than see her in pain.

“Lies!” Belle raged on. “Do you hate me that much-”

“Damn it, Belle, I don’t hate you!” Gold shouted, quaking with unchecked fury. Not from anger, but from denying himself for so long. “I love you!”

Belle her lips parted and she let out an audible gasp. Her warm breath tickled his chin, tempting him further, and when her blue depths leveled at his own mouth, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“To hell with this.” Gold growled and grasping her shoulders, he crushed his mouth to hers.

She made a small squeak sound that made him slow down, so as not to frighten her. Her innocent attempts at returning his kiss informed him that Belle had never been kissed before and his pride mounted within him that he was her first. Nudging her lips apart with his tongue, his gently probed within, snickering when he hit a spot on the roof of her mouth which sent her keening.

Gold moaned as her fingers buried themselves into his longish hair and her nails scraped his scalp. A fast learner, Belle was battling for control over the kiss, and was soon making his knees knock. He slid his hands down her back, feeling her heat through the delicate material of her frock, cursing it for being in his way of her skin.

He broke away, only to dot kisses on her eyes and cheeks and chin. “Don’t marry Neal, please, don’t!” His tone was deep, guttural and frantic. “I’m begging you, it’s not right!”  
Gold moved his mouth to the side of her neck to leave his mark on her. Then she could mark him.

Belle disengaged herself from him. She was wide eyed, her lips red and swollen, her cheeks flushed. Even her frock was wrinkled from his attentions.

Gold froze and realized what he had just said. And done. He had mentioned Neal and reminded her that she was his son’s intended, and that awakened her from the spell she was under. Not a religious man, had Belle not stopped him when she did, he would have ended up making love to her. In a church, behind the baptistery, during her engagement party.

And she deserved so much better than that.

“I have to.” Her face crumbled and she dashed out of the room, his pleas dying on his tongue.

#

Gold waited until the party ended and the guests dispersed before emerging from the little room. He was in no mood to face the well-wishers, and he couldn’t face Belle, not after he made such a fool of himself.

He wandered back into the pitch-black sanctuary and took a seat in one of the empty pews. The shutters on the windows had been left open and moon glow spilled in, offering him a little light. The large cross was opposite of him, hanging on a wall, and was convicting enough. While not well-versed in religious matters, he knew he had sinned in at least a dozen or so ways and there was no coming back from that.

It wasn’t so much God that he desired forgiveness from, but Neal and Belle. His sins were against them. He betrayed his only son and led Belle astray. Neal may not love Belle, but he wanted to do right by her. And Belle…

Gold clenched his jaw, tight enough that a sharp pang shot through it. Belle hadn’t refused his advances and kissed him back so enthusiastically that he assumed she felt the same way. That she wanted to be with him and only needed a little encouragement to admit it. However, Neal had been right; Belle didn’t love him. Why she kissed him, he could only assume that she was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to respond. She had not known a man’s touch until this evening. And now that she knew his, she couldn’t get away fast enough.

There were footsteps and squinting he wondered who it was. Glancing over his shoulder, he managed a smile when Neal made his way down the aisle.

“Papa, there you are!” Neal joined him in the pew and gave him a teasing nudge in the side. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Did something happen?”

Gold bit down on his tongue. So much son, so much. Were he a better or stronger man, he’d confess it all to Neal and bear the brunt of his son’s anger. But now, he was weak and selfish and couldn’t bear the thought of losing his son’s love.

“Yes. I lost my head.” Licking his cracked lips, he could still taste Belle’s flavor, which reminded him of fine chocolates. He wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand. “Neal, I can’t stay in New York. I wish you and Belle all the best, really, I do. But I can’t watch you and Belle live as man and wife. It would kill me, son.”

Belle might not feel anything for him, but he’d die if he had to watch her and Neal live together. While Neal still loved Emma, in time he might fall out of love, and love might grow between him and Belle. They would build a life together, Belle would bear his children…

Gold choked back the bile that had begun to rise. He shook his head; he had to fight such thoughts, otherwise he really would be sick. The thought of prospective grandchildren shouldn’t make him nauseous, but it did. He wanted to be the one to father Belle’s children, to have a family with her, and spend the rest of his life with her.

“Papa, please-” Neal brought his fist to his mouth.

“It’s best if I go back to Scotland for a while.” Gold patted his son’s cheek. “Until I am the master of myself again. I need some time, is all. You’ll be fine; you’re smart and strong and good.”

Neal shook his head and mumbling his protests, he hugged Gold. Neal was everything he was not; good, thoughtful, loyal. He was a credit to the world and the Gold name, even though he officially didn’t share that name.

“You’ll be just fine, I promise.” Gold repeated, trying to convince both his son and himself.

After what happened this evening, he couldn’t chance being near Belle. The temptation would be too great. Soon she would be married and he would be leading a married woman astray. He had put his own feelings and urges before his son and there was no greater sin that that.

No, it would be for the best if he left Neal and Belle to find happiness. They would be better off without him.

 _After the wedding, I’ll go._ Gold decided. He’d keep in touch and help with business matters, perhaps if he were strong enough he could visit from time to time, but he’d begin a new life there.

#

Belle pushed open her bedroom window, thinking the night breezes would cool her heated body. It was no use. Her skin had been on fire since she kissed Mr. Gold. Her lips still tingled from his fervent kisses…she swore she could still feel the pressure of his mouth on hers. Two days had passed and she still wasn’t over it.

Tugging on the collar of her nightgown, she fanned herself, but that still didn’t help.

Had she not stopped kissing Mr. Gold then, she would have had him down on the floor and made him hers. His mention of Neal reminded her that the whole town was in the next room, celebrating her engagement. They had been lucky that no one overheard them shouting, or walked in on them in a lover’s embrace.

She plopped down on her window seat and pulled her knees up to her chest. He had begged her not to marry Neal, to be with him. For a few seconds, she nearly agreed. But how would she have explained to Neal that after all that he had done for her, that she was throwing him over in favor of his father? And Storybrooke – much as she loved the town, it was still a small town, and they would never let her forget it.

The door creaked and Belle smiled, knowing that though she couldn’t hear her mother, she knew that the woman had entered the room. In her stocking feet, she could move noiselessly from place to place.

Her Mother had a cup of tea ready and gently handed it to Belle. “Here, darling. This should help steady your nerves. My mother brought me a cup the night before my wedding.”

Belle accepted the cup and took a sip and then dissolved into tears. She hadn’t been able to convince Father or Mother to agree to accompany her to New York. Her father was adamant, he would not leave Storybrooke. Yes, she could still care of them financially, but she didn’t know how she could bear being married to Neal without her parents’ presence and support.

“Are you crying?” Mother sat down beside her and pushed a lock of Belle’s hair behind her ear. “Belle, please, don’t go through with this. The three of us do well enough on our own. We don’t need to be taken care of.”

“And if father were to have another heart attack or fall ill?” Belle reminded her, and took another drink, to fortify herself. “Or if something were to happen to me? What would become of you? Granny Lucas was only keeping me on because it was her way of showing us charity. I have to marry Neal, for everyone’s sake. Neal is a nice young man.”

Mother blinked; her own pale eyes watery. “He is a boy, Belle. And like Mr. Gold has said time and time again, you are a woman. Neal wouldn’t be enough for you. You need someone that challenges you.” To her surprise, her delicate Mother let out an exaggerated groan. “Your father and I aren’t blind, Belle. We have watched you and Mr. Gold together, and you adore him as much as he adores you. We want you to be happy, Belle.”

Belle scooted off the window and set the cup down on her nightstand. “Mother, the wedding is tomorrow morning. Everyone knows Neal and I are to be married. What am I to do, throw Neal over for his father? What will everyone say?”

Mother opened her mouth to respond and then pressed her lips together in a firm line. Her mother could easily say that it didn’t matter what the town or society thought, but that wouldn’t be true. Men could have broken engagements, be gossiped about, and have a wild reputation. They were men and such was expected of them. Ladies had to be pure, good, wholesome – they had to be perfect. Were she to break it off with Neal and choose Mr. Gold, Storybrooke would never forget and news would travel to New York.

Gold said he loved her and she believed him, she had no reason not to. But one day, after being continually rejected by Storybrooke and New York and the rest of the world, he might decide that she wasn’t worth the sacrifice. Besides, he never said he wanted to marry her. Gold had only asked that she not marry his son. He never married Neal’s mother – although that was not his fault – but he had admitted to having a mistress.

Perhaps that’s all he wants me for. Belle gulped. To be his mistress. After all, he seemed eager to have her behind the baptistery. If that were the case, her reputation would be ruined. Giving up a respectable man who wanted to marry her, for his father who only wanted her as a mistress.

Belle sniffed and continued, “I can’t go back on my word; I can’t betray Neal. That wouldn’t be fair to him. He made a commitment to me. Neal and I will find a way to make a life together and to be happy. What’s done is done.”

Mother rose from the window seat and drawing Belle into a hug, she crooned words of comfort into her ear.

 _At least Mr. Gold and I will see each other from time to time._ It wouldn’t be easy, being that close and not give way to her feelings, but he would be in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://bookwormchocaholic.tumblr.com/post/161885237954/love-and-marriage-chapter-10
> 
> One more chapter left!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding day.

 

Gold pressed a fist against his tender abdomen, wincing as it began to roll once more. He had been up all night, alternating between destroying all of the breakables that he brought along with them – and some he would have to reimburse Mrs. Lucas on – and vomiting. Needless to say, he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Images of Belle flickered, of her alone, of them together, their kiss behind the baptistery. Such thoughts wouldn’t go away.

Not that he wanted them to; he wanted her to haunt him, his thoughts and dreams, his every waking moment. But most of all, he wanted Belle as his wife. He wanted everything with her, but it wasn’t meant to be. He had frightened her with his ardor, sickened her even. Belle couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

Gold shifted from one foot to another, stealing a sideways glance at his son, who was standing before the altar. Waiting for Belle to make her appearance on her father’s arm.

Neal was in his best suit, his unruly curls slicked down, and he reeked of fine cologne. He was usually a good-looking boy, but his pallor complexion hinted that he too had been sick last night. He reminded Gold of a skittish deer that would bolt if given the first opportunity.

Neal’s eyes were glassy and his throat pulsated when he swallowed.

_My boy shouldn’t be shedding unhappy tears on his wedding day._ Gold frowned. Neal may have been twenty, but in Gold’s mind he was a small boy who hurt himself and needed his papa to make it better.

To hell with the crowd that had gathered in the pews, or the fidgety Rev. Dr. Hopper, or all of the money that had been spent. None of that mattered, not when his boy was miserable. No one would think any less of Neal if he backed out now. Except for Belle. But he wasn’t sure if he could ensure Belle’s happiness at the extent of Neal’s. He loved them both more than life itself and would move heaven and earth to make them happy.

Gold edged close to his son and clasped his shoulder, drawing the younger man closer. “Son, are you well?” Exhaling, he realized that this was his last chance to save his son from making a huge mistake. Once Neal was married, he could not intervene again and the boy would have to honor his vows. “Neal-” He began, his throat raw from vomiting the night before.

“I’m fine, Papa.” Neal insisted, and twisting around, he hugged Gold.

The Wedding March began, sounding more comical than reverent. The pianist pounded on the out of tune piano, skipping the keys that no longer worked.

Gold withdrew from his son, lifting his gaze to the vision of white at the far end of the aisle. His heart clenched within him, the bittersweet sight nearly crushing his soul. Belle was on her father’s arm, both being guided by and guiding the older man. Mr. French hadn’t much strength, his legs and arms quivered as he shuffled along. But out of love for his daughter, he summoned what little he had to walk his daughter down the aisle.

The bride looked like an angel. Her chestnut locks were upswept and pinned down, only allowing for a couple of curls to frame her sweet round face. Her usually blue depths were a little dimmed, but her cheeks and nose was bright pink with color. The gown was a slim cut, square neck, with a lace overlay and lacey sleeves. The veil was of the same material. Simple, but elegant.

Belle was as beautiful as a bride should be on her wedding day. And he would have enjoyed it more if he were to be her husband.

Gold prayed that he wouldn’t lose control and act out in desperation. Like interrupt the service. Or hoist the bride over his shoulder and carry her off. Or blurt out about their indiscretion during the engagement party. _Belle and Neal have made their choice and I need to respect that._

Belle arrived at the altar and kissed her father on his cheek.

Mr. French took a seat in the front pew and would likely continue his part from there. He and his wife laced their fingers together, and Gold picked up on the fact that they were sending their daughter beseeching glances.

Rev. Dr. Hopper cleared his throat and opening his Bible, he greeted the guests. “Dearly beloved…”

Gold allowed himself one last glimpse at Belle, to get his fill, to savor the image of her in her wedding dress. Then he tore his eyes away and lowered his head. He wouldn't be able to look at her again; she would be Neal’s wife and officially forbidden to him.

His ears picked up on every little noise, from Mr. French’s wheezing, to Mrs. French’s sniffing, to Neal’s gulping, to Belle’s labored breathing. He was more focused on the last, but vaguely heard the doors of the sanctuary open and close.

“If anyone knows why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Rev. Dr. Hopper stated, sounding a little too eager to be impartial. The whole town seemed conscious of the fact that Neal and Belle should not be married.

Gold longed to speak up, but bit down on the tip of his tongue to maintain his silence. If this is what Belle, and Neal was willing to keep his word, then he needed to be a better man and allow them a chance at happiness.

“I do!” A youthful, feminine voice rang out.

Gold raised his head and found himself breathing a prayer of thanks.

Emma Nolan was in the middle of the aisle, her dress disheveled and wrinkled, her long blonde tresses loosened from its pins. Her cheeks hollowed in and out. Were he willing to guess, he’d say that Emma had run all the way to the church.

Gold never liked Emma more than at this moment. The silly, obstinate girl got under his skin from time to time, but thankfully her impetuousness was now working in their favor. Neal adored Emma and knowing his son’s devotion to her, Neal would not be able to turn the girl away. No matter what falling out they had had, their love would win out in the end.

“Emma?” Neal recoiled from Belle, his wide eyes fixated on his true love.

Gold hazard a glance at Belle and hated himself for being happy when she looked so miserable. But this was for the best. Neal and Emma could be happy, and though Belle didn’t want him, he’d make certain that she and her parents would be taken care of. They’d never have to worry again.

Belle was crestfallen. “Please, don’t do this.” Grabbing a hold of her veil, she tore it from her head and cast it to the floor. But at least she knew that her plan had failed. “You’re ruining everything.”

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t right.” Emma shook her head, daring to approach the bride and groom. Wedging herself between them, she claimed Neal’s hand and cradled it. “Neal, I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I broke things off with the captain and told my parents that I would marry you or no one at all. Please, forgive me.” She lifted and dropped her shoulders in a shrug. “I love you, Neal, I always have.”

Gold thought Emma’s impassioned speech bittersweet, and would have it enjoyed it more had it not hurt the woman he loved. Though Belle felt nothing but revulsion for him, he wanted her to be happy and wished her the best.

Belle was hugging herself, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Gold knew he was punishing himself by watching her, but he couldn’t look away.

Emma turned to the bride and insisted, “Belle, you deserve more than this. You deserve to be with someone who looks at you the way...” Gold suddenly felt Emma’s bright eyes on him and detected the amusement in her tone. “The way Mr. Gold is looking at you right now and has been looking at you the last five minutes.”

Gold sighed when Belle at long last glanced his way. He expected to pick up on her disgust, but instead noticed how heated her look was and wondered if it were possible that he misinterpreted her actions the night before. Belle had immediately fled the baptistery after their kiss and he assumed that she was repulsed by him and his actions.

If that wasn’t it…then perhaps Belle felt something too and left because she felt guilty or used or feared discovery or…

Gold snorted. He really ought to have gone after her and asked what she was feeling.

Neal bowed his dark head. “Belle, Emma’s right.” He was full of remorse, but Gold was relieved that the carefree light had returned to his boy’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Belle’s gaze darted from Gold to Neal and back again. She backed away from them and disregarding her mother’s please, she lifted her skirt and hurried out of the sanctuary.

Gold was stunned by the turn of events, his mouth slackening, and he was unable to utter a sound. He had awakened from his worst nightmare. Neal and Belle weren’t going to marry…and Belle was free.

Neal momentarily broke away from Emma and crouching down next to the ring bearer, he plucked the Gold family ring off the pillow. Tussling the boy’s hair, Neal rose and brought the cherished piece of jewelry over. His boy held it out to him.

“Papa, go after her.” He urged.

Gold stared longingly at the ring. It represented everything he was and everything he would be, and it was something that he could give only to Belle.

“Then I have your blessing?” Gold asked, snatching it up when his son nodded.

“Yes. It’s the way it should have been all along.” Neal pointed at the sanctuary doors. “Now, go get Belle!”

Applause erupted from the wedding guests. When he faced them and he saw that Mr. French was one of the ones cheering, Gold figured that he had the man’s blessing as well.  
Gold slipped the ring in his slack’s pocket and broke out into a run. He had to find Belle before his happy beginning slipped between his fingers.

#

Belle made it to the library and braced a palm against the side of the building to give her time to catch her breath.

She ought to have been humiliated. While she left Neal at the altar, he was the one to end it. In front of the man she truly loved, in front of her parents and friends and all of Storybrooke. She had shielded her eyes as she ran out, but she could sense their sympathetic expressions. But in the end, she wasn’t upset for Neal choosing Emma over her. He loved Emma, he had admitted as much. After all, her heart belonged to Gold. Not that it mattered to him; he professed to love her, and perhaps he did. Enough to have her as a lover but not as a wife, or else he would have said so.

_But now what am I to do? My parents…_ Releasing her lacy skirt, she dried her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her parents would likely be relieved that she would not be marrying a man she didn’t love. Their consciences might be clear, but their bellies would be empty. She no longer had a job, she had no money of her own, no prospects.

Belle heard the sound of feet on the sidewalk, skidding to a halt. A slight shadow eclipsed her and closing her eyes, she flung herself into what she had thought was her mother’s embrace. “Mother…”

She stiffened, instantly realizing that the muscular, masculine frame was not her mother’s willowy, feminine one. Her eyes flew open and she disengaged herself from Gold, the heat rising to her face. “You came after me?” She swallowed, taken aback that he was the one to have followed her and not her mother. “Well, you got what you wanted.”

The Scotsman cocked his head, opening his mouth, showing his uneven teeth. “No, I didn’t. I wanted you to be happy, and if that was with my son, then so be it.” His amber eyes began to glint with unshed tears.

_The look!_ Belle touched her brow, feeling a little giddy. She had caught him looking at her many times before. In the beginning of their acquaintance, she had thought he was studying her to memorize all of her defects and flaws. Or to discern her true motives for marrying his son. Then friendship bloomed between them while Neal was away; Mr. Gold continued to look at her, and everyone understood. Everyone except her.

_He really does love me._

Never before had she been so blind, so obstinate, so irritated. The same insults she had hurled at him could easily have been applied to her. Too wrapped up in her schemes and own troubles, she missed how devoted Gold had been to her and her family. In his own odd way, he had courted her the way Neal never did. Had she laid down her pride and asked him for help for her parents, he would have done it in a heartbeat.

Belle shrank back against the hard edge of the building, ashamed of herself. She had used both of the Gold men abominably and didn’t know if they could ever forgive her for it.

Meeting his gaze, she was confused when he did not appear angry or condemning. Any other man would be, but those twin soft pools of brown fell upon her, making her insides flutter. “Were you happy though? No, you were miserable; all four of us were miserable. Me most of all because I want you for myself.” He let out a husky sigh. “Now if you tell me that you feel nothing at all, then I will go back to New York, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

Belle shook her head and hoped that she wouldn’t make a mess of this, as she had made a mess of everything else. “I don’t want you to leave. I love you too, though I tried not to. I only made it this far, knowing that you would be in my life. You would have been my father-in-law, which would have made things difficult. But we still would have seen each other.” She cringed at how ridiculous she sounded saying that aloud.

Yes, they would have been in each other’s lives, but the friendship they shared while Neal was away, could not have been revived. And after that wild kiss behind the baptistery, there was no way she could have been in close proximity of Gold without thinking of him intimately. To be married to Neal while longing for his father for the rest of her life, no, it couldn’t have been borne.

“No, we wouldn’t have.” Gold gave a shake of his head. The wind tussled his longish hair, creating ripples in the silken strands. “If you and Neal had gone through with it, I would have gone back to Scotland.”

“Oh,” Belle said, thinking how lucky she was. She not only would have been separated from the man she loved, but she would have been separated from her best friend as well. But perhaps now…dare she hope they might have a second chance? “So, now what do we do?”

“This.” Gold replied, curled his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

He dipped his head, brushing his lips against hers, before delving in deeper, reminding her of what she almost lost.

Belle slid her hands beneath his suit jacket and eased them up his back, giggling into his mouth when he moaned his appreciation. Inexperienced as she was, at least she could give him a little pleasure.

Gold nibbled her lower lip, making her squeak. He planted soft kisses along her jaw, up to her hairline. “Marry me?” He exhaled, blowing a small puff of air against the shell of her ear.

“Yes.” Belle licked her lips, tasting the spicy flavor that he left behind. “This is what I’ve always wanted.” She laid her head on his shoulder and could envision herself doing the same thing when they would be in bed at night. “Why has it taken me this long to realize it?”

There was a tiny rumble in his chest when he chuckled. “Because nothing can ever be easy with you. Or with me for that matter.” Gold kissed her once more and then grabbed her hand, tugging her along. “Let’s go or we’ll be late for our own wedding.”

Belle gave a mirthful laugh. Neal contributed very little to the preparations. While Gold had been only her future father-in-law then, he had taken an active interest in everything, at the same time encouraging her to have whatever her heart desired.

No, it had been her and Gold’s wedding all along.

_Gold._

“Wait!” Belle pulled back and felt a wave of remorse when he turned back to her and looked uncertain. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed the corner of his mouth to assuage his fears. “I don’t know your name.”

Gold visibly relaxed. “Alister.” He supplied.

“Alister,” Belle beamed and briefly glancing down at her gown, she checked it over. Despite being wrinkled and a little sweat dampened in spots, it was still beautiful. And she felt like a princess. “Let’s go get married.”

Alister pressed a kiss to her brow and they walked arm in arm back to the church.

People may talk and gossip about what happened, but at the end of the day, as long as she had Alister, and her family was well and happy, that was all that mattered.

#

Belle fidgeted, unaccustomed to sitting on her husband’s lap, as well as feeling a little self-conscious. They – her parents, Neal and Emma, she and Alister – had gathered in the living room for tea after the ceremonies and seeing as there was not enough chairs in the house for them all, Gold mischievously coaxed her onto his knee. Neither of her parents seemed uncomfortable with it, after all, her Mother was perched on the arm of Father’s chair, her arms around his neck.

Following her and Alister’s wedding, Neal and Emma threw caution to the wind and wed. Theirs had been a long, drawn out love affair, on they needed to protect her parents from meddling in. It was sweet, that she and Alister would share their anniversary with Neal and Emma. The four of them had been entangled in this kerfuffle for months, so it only seemed right that this day belonged to the four of them.

Belle held out her hand, marveling at how perfect the Gold family ring looked on her finger. When she had worn it before, she felt shackled. But now it felt right; she belonged and was loved.

Her arms tightened around her husband’s neck, tingles coursing throughout her body as he nuzzled the side of her neck, dropping chaste little kisses there. Before Alister, she had never known what it was to be desired, but now that she did, she could tell that he couldn’t wait to get her alone and start off their honeymoon properly. And she couldn’t wait either.

“I suppose you young people will return to New York.” Father observed, interrupting the two couples. He picked up Mother’s hand and brought it to his lips.

After thirty years together, her parents dearly loved each other and she had a feeling that Alister and her would be that happy in thirty years’ time.

“Lord, yes!” Emma exclaimed and then had the good graces to look sheepish by her fervent outburst. “I mean, Storybrooke is a lovely place to visit but I could never live here.”

Belle understood, bobbing her head in agreement. Emma had been born and raised in New York City, it was all she knew. She would feel stifled in Storybrooke and it would never be her true home.

Neal teasingly winked at his bride. “Neither could I.” He chimed in and to Mother and Father, he said, “No slight intended.”

Belle met Neal’s gaze and nodded to him. He grinned. Things might be a little awkward between them for a while, but in time they would become good friends. Neal would make a better step son to her than he ever would have a husband.

“And you two lovebirds?” Mother asked, her warm gaze flickering to Belle and Alister.

Belle was dumbstruck at first and searched Alister’s earnest face for an answer. “We have not talked of it.” She slowly admitted.

Originally her plan had been for her and her parents to move into Neal’s residence in New York after the honeymoon. However, her parents had made it perfectly clear that they would not set foot in New York and would remain in Storybrooke. In hindsight, it made sense. They would no more feel at home in New York than Neal would have in Storybrooke.

  
Her two front teeth sank down into her lower lip.

Alister rolled his eyes, chuckling. Giving her a quick kiss, he stated, “I was thinking that you and I should stay here in Storybrooke. It’s time that Neal assumes his responsibility in the family business and your parents are already comfortable here.” He added, thoughtfully, “Besides, Storybrooke would be a perfect place to raise a family.”

Belle leaned in to hug her husband and concurred, “Storybrooke it is, then.”

She had intended for her and her parents to be provided, but she never imagined receiving a good man who loved in the bargain. A man who would willingly sacrifice to ensure her and her parents’ happiness; she could only hope that she could make him happy too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://bookwormchocaholic.tumblr.com/post/162158848859/love-and-marriage-chapter-11


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby gives Belle a present. Belle and Alister go on their honeymoon.

 

Belle trailed Ruby to the parlor, to bid her friend a private farewell before she and Alister departed on their honeymoon. They intended to be gone for only two weeks, but she had never been away from Storybrooke for so long. Emma and Neal agreed to stay with her parents while she was away and she knew they would be in good hands, but the pang of homesickness had already begun to fester.

Ruby closed the door firmly behind them, releasing a string of conspiratorial giggles. “What’s so funny?” Belle asked.

Ruby’s mouth quirked into an impish purse. “So, are you still a maiden?”

“Ruby!” Belle exclaimed and put her fingers to her lips. “I can’t believe…”

But she could believe. While not necessarily proper, over the years she and Ruby and discussed the carnal desires of men and women. They speculated, at least. It wasn’t seemly for single ladies to inquire openly about such things. However, she and Ruby were curious creatures and gleaned information where they could.

The heat rose to the surface of Belle’s cheeks. Since they spent their wedding night at Granny’s boarding house, neither she nor Alister felt comfortable doing more than kissing, petting, and cuddling. Not when the walls were thin and Granny purportedly could hear as well as a wolf. No, she couldn’t stomach the thought of her friends hearing her and

  
Alister make love. They both wished to be uninhibited during their first coupling, with nothing and no one to hinder them.

“I-I am.” Belle admitted reluctantly. “Alister and I agreed to wait until we reached Boston.”

“Good.” Ruby grinned wolfishly and darting over to the bookshelf, she snatched up a book that Belle did not recognize. It must have been new because Belle was familiar with the Lucas’ library, having memorized every title that she dusted. “This is a wedding present for you.”

Belle’s interest was instantly piqued when she read the foreign-sounding title aloud. “Kama Sutra.” Her brow scrunched, relaying her confusion. “Ruby, why do I get the impression that this book is not so innocent?”

“Because it’s not.” Ruby fell into giggles again and slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise. Or else risk drawing her grandmother or Alister into the room. “It is an ancient text that contains a manual on sexual positions.”

“Ruby!” Belle shouted in a whisper and jerking her friend by the hand, they sat on the settee. “Are you insane?”

Brides were expected to go to their husbands’ bed innocent of the ways of the world. Whilst she probably knew more than most women, the idea of reading this exotic – and likely forbidden - book, she was both overwhelmed and intrigued by what it would contain.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Belle, you’re a married woman now. You should be aware of what is about to take place. Or what can take place.” Folding her arms assertively, her friend continued her well-thought-out argument. “If men are allowed to be knowledgeable of sexual intercourse, then why can’t women? Why must we remain infantilized?”  
Belle found herself nodding. Ruby had a good point.

Alister had confessed to her during their unique little courtship, that he had a mistress at one point. And obviously he had been with Neal’s mother. He would love her no matter what, of that she was now certain. But she would rather not go to him on their postponed wedding night with only the bare minimum of information. Not when she could have a chance to show him the extent of her love and offer him pleasure. Unlike other brides, she did not want to go to Alister meekly. She wanted to go to him as his equal.  
The last thing she needed was him comparing her to Milah or his mistress. If he did, she would fall short, and then he might lose interest in her.

Belle opened it a crack and skimming the pages, her eyes bulged at some of the illustrations. It left nothing to the imagination. She had not known the human body was capable of such things. “All right, you win.” She shut the book, deciding that she would read it on the train ride to Boston. “So, did you plan to give this to me when I was engaged to Neal?”

“Lord, no!” Ruby snorted, shaking her head. “If you and Neal had gone through with the wedding, I would have given you pamphlets about convents for a gift. Nothing about that union would have been right and I never would have encouraged you to consummate it. But you and Mr. Gold, I imagine, will be very happy with one another.”

Belle hugged the book to her chest, in eager anticipation for what awaited her tonight.

#

“Allow me to freshen up and then I’ll be ready.” Belle announced, traipsing into their hotel room. She laid her handbag on the bed, claimed one of her suitcases, and disappeared into the washroom.

Alister shut the door of their room and after setting down their luggage by the dresser, he shed his suit jacket and draped it over the chair at the desk. He sat down on the foot of the bed and tugged on his tie. _Ready for what?_ It was evening and he was tired from the train ride, therefore he hadn’t envisioned them venturing out into the city. Of course, if Belle wanted to go see the sights, then he would be glad to take her. She was young and perhaps not as exhausted as he was.

 _I’m getting old._ He had even dozed on the train, only to wake up and find her lost in one of her books. Since she was wholly engrossed, he drifted off back to sleep. He was fifteen years her senior after all, which might account for some of his decreased energy. Hopefully Belle won’t realize that she married an old man. A graying, short, hook-nosed old man. With a paunch. His stomach was well concealed beneath his vest and blended in well with the remainder of his torso, but once she got a glimpse of him, his pale naked body, Belle would run for the hills.

Which was why he suggested that they wait until they were out of Storybrooke before they consummated their marriage. She was agreeable to it and that was that. Of course, now they were out of Storybrooke and free to do as they please. He had wanted to make love to her from the start, but considering he was faced with the making love to his bride, terror mounted within him.

Alister was toeing off his shoes when he heard the washroom door creak. His heart nearly jumped into his throat when Belle emerged, an innocent looking white cotton night dress with a blue bow. He had seen her in it the night before, but there was something wanton about how she looked, with her curls hanging free and her eyes darkly studying him.

He let out a guttural noise and gulped as she approached.

Belle hopped up on the bed beside him; her cheeks were flushed. Without warning, she launched into his arms, knocking him back against the mattress, her determined mouth capturing his mouth, her quick plundering within. Alister could feel himself hardening and shifted, that way she wouldn’t notice.

Belle’s hand slid down the length of his chest and he nearly choked when she cupped him.

Alister yelped and when Belle raised up to look at him, he slipped out from beneath her and staggered from the bed. “Belle!” He bent at his waist hoping to hide the evidence of his arousal. “What are you doing?”

“Making love to you.” She dropped her hands in her lap. “Or trying to. I guess I wasn’t doing a very good job.”

“You were amazing, sweetheart,” He blinked his surprise. His Belle was well-read and was wiser than others, but he knew she had little to no experience. That much was evident. But he never would have expected her to be so…aggressive. “I thought we would just take our time. It’s no rush.”

“I’ll improve!” Belle hastily replied.

“There’s nothing wrong with you now.” Alister straightened as he felt his length soften.

Settling his gaze on his bride, he felt he was missing something. From the start of their relationship, they misunderstood one another. Misunderstandings were bound to happen again, but he’d rather that none occur on their wedding night.

Alister moved towards the bed and sat down beside her. Lacing his fingers through hers, he raised the back of her hand to his lips. “What is it?”

Her eyes were wide and a little watery. “I just… I don’t want to disappoint you. In bed.”

“What?” He shook his head. “How could you ever think I’d be disappointed in you?” When she didn’t respond right away, he gently probed. “Belle, you can tell me anything.”

  
Belle nodded and fetched a book from her satchel. “Ruby gave this to me.”

Alister leafed through the book and sucking in a deep break, he tried to keep himself calm. He had vaguely heard of Kama Sutra and what it was about, but had never bothered to read it. There hadn’t been anyone in his life for years, so there was no point in seeking the book out.

Laying the volume down, he cleared his throat. “I see. And you would like to attempt some of those things?”

“Yes!” Belle nodded again, rocking forward onto her knees. “I know I’m a maiden, but I can learn. And you won’t be displeased.”

“Belle!” Alister rasped and he knew that with her antics, one of these days Belle would be the death of him. “You could never displease me or disappoint me. Making love, that is something we learn together. We find out what we like and what makes us feel good, and as long as we’re happy, that’s what really matters.”

He still felt as though she wasn’t being entirely candid and knew that to get her to admit her insecurities, he would have to volunteer his.

“Do you know what worries me the most, Belle? It’s not making love or techniques.” Alister tightened his grip on her hand, drawing strength from her touch. “It’s being naked in front of you. I haven’t shown anyone my body since the turn of the century. I’m old and pasty and I have a stomach. Your opinion is the one I value most in the world; I’d crumble if you were repulsed by me.”

No sooner had he finished his speech, Belle was in his lap, pressing her lips to his, nipping at his lower lip. He splayed his hands against her back, enjoying the fact that only a cotton nightgown separated her from his fingers.

She feathered kisses from his mouth to his jaw. “Alister, I love your body. And I already know about your tummy.” Resting the heel of her palm on his paunch, she giggled. “I think it’s cute.”

Alister blinked his surprise. “All right, good. I’m glad.” He never thought she would like his imperfections, but he would take what he could get. “So, would you tell me what else is wrong?”

Belle sighed. “I worry that I won’t be enough for you.” Her two front teeth sank into her lower lip. “You had been with two other ladies, who probably knew more of what you like. I can’t compare to them.”

“You don’t compare to them in any way, shape, or form.” Alister abruptly interrupted. He’d put an end to her doubts for once and for all. “You’re their superior in every way that matters. I cared for Milah, because she was a first love and now I only think of her as Neal’s mother. We never would have had a lasting relationship though. And the mistress…she was an opportunist. I thought it was love and I was wrong. Which is why I have been alone for fifteen years.” Combing his fingers through her hair, he brushed his lips against hers. “You’re all I ever wanted. And I’d rather us figure things out without the aid of a book. In time, we can experiment, but tonight, I just want us to be happy and enjoy ourselves.”

He breathed a sigh of relief when Belle gave him a genuine smile.

“All right.” Belle concurred and she began plucking at the buttons on his vest. “I’ll be happy and enjoy myself more when you take off some of these layers though.”

Alister chortled, the muscles on his chest and stomach quivering as her delicate fingers did their work. While she focused on his vest and then his dress shirt, he began at her jaw and then mouthed his way down her neck, stopping at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. He worried the spot, kissing it first, then scraping it with his teeth, then he soothed it with his tongue. Her beautiful breasts heaving, enough to whet his appetite, then he felt a rush of cooler air against his chest.

Little minx. She had gotten pulled his vest and shirt down when he wasn’t paying attention.

Belle tilted her head to the side and she surveyed her work. Running her hands down his chest, she massaged his nipples with her thumbs.

Alister bit down on his tongue. _Damn, I’m hard again._ That certainly didn’t take long.

Clearly, she had no reservations about him and seemed to like the way he looked.

Twisting around, he rolled her underneath him. “My turn now, dearest.”

He cupped her breasts and kneaded them, loving the sounds she made as she threw her head back. His hands slowed as his eyes lowered. The skirt of her nightgown had ridden up and her bottom half was bare. Dear God, she’s not wearing drawers!

Swallowed hard, he asked, “Belle, may I touch you down there?”

“Of course.” Belle agreed, suddenly looking impish. “Let’s get this all out of the way.”

Squirming, she lifted the gown up over her head and tossed it away.

Alister cursed under his breath. She was beautiful, like a work of art. Her pert breasts made his mouth water and when she spread her legs, he nearly lost it. He sank between her thighs

He traced his finger around one nipple, then the other, finally dragged it downwards, all the way to her folds. Belle mewled a cry when he slid his finger into her, then another. She was tight; he had to get her inner muscles to loosen up otherwise when they did make love, he might hurt her.

“Are you all right?” He wondered aloud.

“Yes.” Belle nodded. “It’s different.”

“Mmhmm.” Alister slid a second finger in and began to pump, then added his thumb to graze the little pearl within.

Belle gripped his bicep, her nails digging into his flesh. She arched and he could feel her channel begin to flutter. “Oh, oh, oh!!!” She wailed, pressing the back of her head into the bedding.

Alister smiled, marveling at how beautiful she was as she came apart, his fingers soon soaked with her juices.

Her skin was glistening when the orgasm subsided and she stared through bleary eyes.

He opened his mouth to ask how she felt but was interrupted when Belle jerked him down against her and attacked his mouth with a searing kiss.

#

Belle was still reeling from the euphoria that she had experienced. If magic existed, Alister had just enchanted her and put her under a spell.

She sucked on his bottom lip, allowing her hands to roam and wander his beautiful body. Poor man had insecurities, but he had no reason to be shy about himself. He toned and firm for the most part. The soft tummy he had was cute and she loved how it pressed into her when his body covered her.

His manhood was stiff again and poking against her belly. She already missed his fingers filling her up and knew that nothing would compare to when he slid his length inside of her.

Summoning her courage, she drew her head back and glancing downwards, she cupped him again.

“Alister, I’m ready!” Belle announced and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer this time.

There was no doubt that she really was ready and that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Alister bobbed his head.

Easing off of her, he undid his belt and the buttons on his trousers, then slid them down.

Belle smiled approvingly at his bare form.

Alister climbed back on top, settling between her thighs, and gave her one last, anxious look. When she nodded her encouragement, he took himself in hand and nudged the tip to her entrance. He slid in bit by bit, until he was full sheathed.

Belle closed her eyes. It didn’t hurt necessarily, but it did feel odd. New. Different. She could feel herself mold around his length.

A droplet fell from his brow and landed on her cheek. Poor man was sweating, he was so nervous!

Belle wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging him downwards, pressing her mouth to his. She could feel his anxieties slipping away as they kissed. On instinct alone, she hitched her legs up around his waist, taking him at a new angle.

Alister drew himself out and then slid himself back in, thrusting gently into her. Mimicking his movements, she met each of his thrusts, bucking her hips. He wedged his hand between them, where they were joined together, and rubbed that little spot that he had rubbed before.

“Alister!” Belle cried out, sensing the return of the euphoria.

“I’ve got you.” Alister mustered against her mouth.

Once more, that magical feeling washed over her, possessing her body and soul.

Alister continued to thrust, until he too experienced his own euphoria. He slumped on top of her, breathless, pressing a kiss to her brow. “I love you, Belle.”

“I love you too.” Belle echoed, feeling spent.

Her eyelids began to droop and sleep beckoned her.

Alister rolled onto his back, drawing her on top of him. He wasn’t satisfied until her head was on his chest.

Tomorrow they could make love again, and then explore the city, setting out on their happy beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://bookwormchocaholic.tumblr.com/post/162662885884/love-and-marriage-chapter-12

**Author's Note:**

> http://bookwormchocaholic.tumblr.com/post/158430012224/love-and-marriage-chapter-1


End file.
